VICKY  VAN 


WTPT  T  C 

WliLLo 


ornia 
tal 

V 


VICKY  VAN 


THIRD  EDITION 


CAROLYN     WELLS9 

Baffling  detective  stories  in  which  Fleming  Stone, 
the  great  American  Detective,  displays  his  re 
markable  ingenuity  for  unravelling  mysteries 


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SHE  GAVE  A  STIFLED  SCREAM,  AND  PUSHING  THE   GREAT  JAR   OFF  ON  THE 
FLOOR,  RUSHED   OUT  OF  THE  ROOM 

Page  237 


VICKY  VAN 


By  CAROLYN  WELLS 

Author  of  "A  Chain  of  Evidence,"  "The  Clue,1'  etc. 


WITH  A  FRONTISPIECE  IN  COLOR  BT 

GAYLE  HOSKINS 


PHILADELPHIA  AND  LONDON 
J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 

1918 


COPYRIGHT,  1917,  I9l8,  BY  FRANK  A.  HUNSBY  COMPANY 
COPYRIGHT,  I9l8,  BY  J.  B.  UPPINCOTT  COMPANY 


PUBLISHED  FEBRUARY,  I9l8 


PRINTED  BY  J.  B.  UPPINCOTT  COMPANY 

AT  THE  WASHINGTON  SQUARE  PRESS 

PHILADELPHIA,  U.  S.  A, 


TO 

ONE  OF  MY  BEST  CHUMS 

JULIAN  KING  SPRAGUE 


_.*     Mr          X.          \      »• 

^W'O'O'v 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PACK 

I.  VICKY  VAN 9 

II.  MR.  SOMERS 23 

III.  THE  WAITER'S  STORY 38 

IV.  SOMERS'  REAL  NAME 51 

V.  THE  SCHUYLER  HOUSEHOLD 65 

VI.  VICKY'S  WAYS 79 

VII.  RUTH  SCHUYLER 93 

VIII.  THE  LETTER  Box 108 

IX.  THE  SOCIAL  SECRETARY 122 

X.  THE  INQUEST 13? 

XI.  A  NOTE  FROM  VICKY 153 

XII.  MORE  NOTES 167 

XIII.  FLEMING  STONE 181 

XIV.  WALLS  HAVE  TONGUES 196 

XV.  FIBSY 211 

XVI.  A  FUTILE  CHASE 226 

XVII.  THE  GOLD-FRINGED  GOWN 241 

XVIII.  FIBSY  DINES  OUT 256 

XIX.  PROOFS  AND  MORE  PROOFS 270 

XX.  THE  TRUTH  FROM  RUTH 285 


VICKY  VAN 

CHAPTER  I 

VICKY  VAN 

VICTORIA  VAN  ALLEN  was  the  name  she  signed 
to  her  letters  and  to  her  cheques,  but  Vicky  Van, 
as  her  friends  called  her,  was  signed  all  over  her 
captivating  personality,  from  the  top  of  her  dainty, 
tossing  head  to  the  tips  of  her  dainty,  dancing  feet. 

I  liked  her  from  the  first,  and  if  her  "  small 
and  earlies  "  were  said  to  be  so  called  because  they 
were  timed  by  the  small  and  early  numerals  on  the 
clock  dial,  and  if  her  "  little  "  bridge  games  kept 
in  active  circulation  a  goodly  share  of  our  country's 
legal  tender,  those  things  are  not  crimes. 

I  lived  in  one  of  the  polite  sections  of  New  York 
City,  up  among  the  East  Sixties,  and  at  the  insist 
ence  of  my  sister  and  aunt,  who  lived  with  me,  our 
home  was  near  enough  the  great  boulevard  to  be 
designated  by  that  enviable  phrase,  "  Just  off  Fifth 
Avenue."  We  were  on  the  north  side  of  the  street, 
and,  nearer  to  the  Avenue,  on  the  south  side,  was 
the  home  of  Vicky  Van. 

Before  I  knew  the  girl,  I  saw  her  a  few  times, 

9 


10  VICKY  VAN 

at  long  intervals,  on  the  steps  of  her  house,  or 
entering  her  little  car,  and  half -consciously  I  noted 
her  charm  and  her  evident  zest  of  life. 

Later,  when  a  club  friend  offered  to  take  me 
there  to  call,  I  accepted  gladly,  and  as  I  have  said, 
I  liked  her  from  the  first. 

And  yet,  I  never  said  much  about  her  to  my 
sister.  I  am,  in  a  way,  responsible  for  Winnie,  and 
too,  she's  too  young  to  go  where  they  play  Bridge 
for  money.  Little  faddly  prize  bags  or  gift-shop 
novelties  are  her  stakes. 

Also,  Aunt  Lucy,  who  helps  me  look  after  Win, 
wouldn't  quite  understand  the  atmosphere  at  Vicky's. 
Not  exactly  Bohemian — and  yet,  I  suppose  it  did 
represent  one  compartment  of  that  handy-box  of  a 
term.  But  I'm  going  to  tell  you,  right  now,  about 
a  party  I  went  to  there,  and  you  can  see  for  your 
self  what  Vicky  Van  was  like. 

"  How  late  you're  going  out,"  said  Winnie, 
as  I  slithered  into  my  topcoat.  "  It's  after  eleven." 

"  Little  girls  mustn't  make  comments  on  big 
brothers,"  I  smiled  back  at  her.  Win  was  nineteen 
and  I  had  attained  the  mature  age  of  twenty-seven. 
We  were  orphans  and  spinster  Aunt  Lucy  did  her 
best  to  be  a  parent  to  us;  and  we  got  on  smoothly 
enough,  for  none  of  us  had  the  temperament  that 
rouses  friction  in  the  home. 


VICKY  VAN  11 

"  Across  the  street?  "  Aunt  Lucy  guessed,  raising 
her  aristocratic  eyebrows  a  hair's  breadth. 

"  Yes,"  I  returned,  the  least  bit  irritated  at  the 
implication  of  that  hairbreadth  raise.  "  Steele  will 
be  over  there  and  I  want  to  see  him " 

This  time  the  said  eyebrows  went  up  frankly  in 
amusement,  and  the  kind  blue  eyes  beamed  as  she 
said,  "All  right,  Chet,  run  along." 

Though  I  was  Chester  Calhoun,  the  junior  part 
ner  of  the  law  firm  of  Bradbury  and  Calhoun,  and 
held  myself  in  due  and  consequent  respect,  I  didn't 
mind  Aunt  Lucy's  calling  me  Chet,  or  even,  as  she 
sometimes  did,  Chetty.  A  man  puts  up  with  those 
things  from  the  women  of  his  household.  As  to 
Winnie,  she  called  me  anything  that  came  handy, 
from  Lord  Chesterton  to  Chessy-Cat. 

I  patted  Aunt  Lucy  on  her  soft  old  shoulder  and 
Winnie  on  her  hard  young  head,  and  was  off. 

True,  I  did  expect  to  see  Steele  at  Vicky  Van's 
— he  was  the  club  chap  who  had  introduced  me  there 
— but  as  Aunt  Lucy  had  so  cleverly  suspected,  he 
was  not  my  sole  reason  for  going.  A  bigger  reason 
was  that  I  always  had  a  good  time  there,  the  sort 
of  a  good  time  I  liked. 

I  crossed  the  street  diagonally,  in  defiance  of 
much  good  advice  I  have  heard  and  read  against 
such  a  proceeding.  But  at  eleven  o'clock  at  night 


12  VICKY  VAN 

the  traffic  in  those  upper  side  streets  is  not  sufficient 
to  endanger  life  or  limb,  and  I  reached  Vicky  Van's 
house  in  safety. 

It  was  a  very  small  house,  and  it  was  the  one 
nearest  to  the  Fifth  Avenue  corner,  though  the  long 
side  of  the  first  house  on  that  block  of  the  Avenue 
lay  between. 

The  windows  on  each  floor  were  brilliantly 
lighted,  and  I  mounted  the  long  flight  of  stone  steps 
sure  of  a  merry  welcome  and  a  jolly  time. 

I  was  admitted  by  a  maid  whom  I  already  knew 
well  enough  to  say  "  Evening,  Julie,"  as  I  passed 
her,  and  in  another  moment,  I  was  in  the  long,  nar 
row  living-room  and  was  a  part  of  the  gay  group 
there. 

"  Angel  child !  "  exclaimed  Vicky  Van  herself, 
dancing  toward  me,  "  did  he  come  to  see  his  little 
ole  friend  ?  "  and  laying  her  two  hands  in  mine  for 
an  instant,  she  considered  me  sufficiently  welcomed, 
and  danced  off  again.  She  was  a  will  o'  the  wisp, 
always  tantalizing  a  man  with  a  hope  of  special  at 
tention,  and  then  flying  away  to  another  guest,  only 
to  treat  him  in  the  same.  way. 

I  looked  after  her,  a  slim,  graceful  thing,  vibrant 
with  the  joy  of  living,  smiling  in  sheer  gayety  of 
heart,  and  pretty  as  a  picture. 

Her  black  hair  was  arranged  in  the  newest  style, 


VICKY  VAN  13 

that  covered  her  ears  with  soft  loops  and  exposed  the 
shape  of  her  trim  little  head.  It  was  banded  with 
a  jeweled  fillet,  or  whatever  they  call  those  Oriental 
things  they  wear,  and  her  big  eyes  with  their  long, 
dark  lashes,  her  pink  cheeks  and  curved  scarlet  lips 
seemed  to  say,  "  the  world  owes  me  a  living  and  I'm 
going  to  collect." 

Not  as  a  matter  of  financial  obligation,  be  it 
understood. 

Vicky  Van  had  money  enough  and  though  noth 
ing  about  her  home  was  ostentatious  or  over  ornate, 
it  was  quietly  and  in  the  best  of  taste  luxurious. 

But  I  was  describing  Vicky  herself.  Her  gown, 
the  skirt  part  of  it,  was  a  sort  of  mazy  maize-colored 
thin  stuff,  rather  short  and  rather  full,  that  swirled 
as  she  moved,  and  fluttered  when  she  danced.  The 
bodice  part,  was  of  heavily  gold-spangled  material, 
and  a  kind  of  overskirt  arrangement  was  a  lot  of 
long  gold  fringe  made  of  beads.  Instead  of  a  yoke, 
there  were  shoulder  straps  of  these  same  beads,  and 
the  sleeves  weren't  there. 

And  yet,  that  costume  was  all  right.  Why,  it 
was  a  rig  I'd  be  glad  to  see  Winnie  in,  when  she 
gets  older,  and  if  I've  made  it  sound  rather — er — 
gay  and  festive,  it's  my  bungling  way  of  describing 
it,  and  also,  because  Vicky's  personality  would  add 
gayety  and  festivity  to  any  raiment. 


14  VICKY  VAN 

Her  little  feet  wore  goldy  slippers,  and  a  lot  of 
ribbons  criss-crossed  over  her  ankles,  and  on  the 
top  of  each  slipper  was  a  gilt  butterfly  that  fluttered. 

Yet  with  all  this  bewildering  effect  of  frivolity, 
the  first  term  I'd  make  use  of  in  describing  Vick's 
character  would  be  Touch-me-not.  I  believe  there's 
a  flower  called  that — noli  me  tang  ere — or  some  such 
name.  Well,  that's  Vicky  Van.  She'd  laugh  and 
jest  with  you,  and  then  if  you  said  anything  by  way 
of  a  personal  compliment  or  flirtatious  foolery,  she 
was  off  and  away  from  your  side,  like  a  thistle-down 
in  a  summer  breeze.  She  was  a  witch,  a  madcap, 
but  she  had  her  own  way  in  everything,  and  her 
friends  did  her  will  without  question. 

Her  setting,  too,  just  suited  her.  Her  living 
room  was  one  of  those  very  narrow,  very  deep  rooms 
so  often  seen  in  the  New  York  side  streets.  It  was 
done  up  in  French  gray  and  rose,  as  was  the  dic 
tum  of  the  moment.  On  the  rose-brocaded  walls 
were  few  pictures,  but  just  the  right  ones.  Gray 
enameled  furniture  and  deep  window-seats  with  rose- 
colored  cushions  provided  resting-places,  and  soft 
rose-shaded  lights  gave  a  mild  glow  of  illumination. 

Flowers  were  everywhere.  Great  bowls  of  roses, 
jars  of  pink  carnations  and  occasionally  a  vase  of 
pink  orchids  were  on  mantel,  low  bookcases  or 
piano.  And  sometimes  the  odor  of  a  cigarette  or  a 


VICKY  VAN  15 

burning  pastille  of  Oriental  fragrance,  added  to  the 
Bohemian  effect  which  is,  of tener  than  not,  discerni 
ble  by  the  sense  of  smell. 

Vicky  herself,  detested  perfumes  or  odors  of  any 
kind,  save  fresh  flowers  all  about.  Indeed,  she  de 
tested  Bohemianism,  when  it  meant  unconventional 
dress  or  manners  or  loud-voiced  jests  or  songs. 

Her  house  was  dainty,  correct  and  artistic,  and 
yet,  I  knew  its  atmosphere  would  not  please  my 
Aunt  Lucy,  or  be  just  the  right  place  for  Winnie. 

Many  of  the  guests  I  knew.  Cassie  Weldon 
was  a  concert  singer  and  Ariadne  Gale  an  artist  of 
some  prominence,  both  socially  and  in  her  art  circle. 
Jim  Ferris  and  Bailey  Mason  were  actors  of  a  good 
sort,  and  Bert  Garrison,  a  member  of  one  of  my 
best  clubs,  was  a  fast  rising  architect.  Steele  hadn't 
come  yet. 

Two  tables  of  bridge  were  playing  in  the  back 
part  of  the  room,  and  in  the  rest  o>f  the  rather 
limited  space  several  couples  were  dancing. 

"  Mayn't  we  open  the  doors  to  the  dining  room, 
Vicky?  "  called  out  one  of  the  card  players.  "  The 
calorics  of  this  room  must  be  about  ninety  in  the 
shade." 

"  Open  them  a  little  way,"  returned  Miss  Van 
Allen.  "  But  not  wide,  for  there's  a  surprise  sup 
per  and  I  don't  want  you  to  see  it  yet." 


16  VICKY  VAN 

They  set  the  double  doors  a  few  inches  ajar 
and  went  on  with  their  game.  The  dining  room,  as 
I  knew,  was  a  wide  room  that  ran  all  across  the 
house  behind  both  living-room  and  hall.  It  was 
beautifully  decorated  in  pale  green  and  silver,  and 
often  Vicky  Van  would  have  a  "  surprise  supper," 
at  which  the  favors  or  entertainers  would  be  well 
worth  waiting  for. 

Having  greeted  many  whom  I  knew,  I  looked 
about  for  further  speech  with  my  hostess. 

"  She's  upstairs  in  the  music  room,"  said  Cassie 
Weldon,  seeing  and  interpreting  my  questing  glance. 

"  Thank  you,  lady,  for  those  kind  words,"  I 
called  back  over  my  shoulder,  and  went  upstairs. 

The  front  room  on  the  second  floor  was  dubbed 
the  "  music  room,"  Vicky  said,  because  there  was  a 
banjo  in  it.  Sometimes  the  guests  brought  more 
banjos  and  a  concert  of  glees  and  college  songs 
would  ensue.  But  more  often,  as  to-night,  it  was 
a  little  haven  of  rest  and  peace  from  the  laughter 
and  jest  below  stairs. 

It  was  an  exquisite  white  and  gold  room,  and 
here,  too,  as  I  entered,  pale  pink  shades  dimmed  the 
lights  to  a  soft  radiance  that  seemed  like  a  breaking 
dawn. 

Vicky  sat  enthroned  on  a  white  divan,  her  feet 
crossed  on  a  gold-embroidered  white  satin  foot- 


VICKY  VAN  17 

cushion.  In  front  of  her  sat  three  or  four  of  her 
guests  all  laughing  and  chatting. 

"  But  he  vowed  he  was  going  to  get  here  some 
how/'  Mrs.  Reeves  was  saying. 

"  What's  his  name?  "  asked  Vicky,  though  in  a 
voice  of  little  interest. 

"  Somers,"  returned  Mrs.  Reeves. 

"  Never  heard  of  him.  Did  you,  Mr.  Calhoun?  " 
and  Vicky  Van  looked  up  at  me  as  I  entered. 

"  No;  Miss  Van  Allen.     Who  is  he?  " 

"  I  don't  know  and  I  don't  care.  Only  as  Mrs. 
Reeves  says  he  is  coming  here  to-night,  I'd  like  to 
know  something  about  him." 

"  Coming  here!  A  man  you  don't  know?  "  I 
drew  up  a  chair  to  join  the  group.  "  How  can  he?  " 

"  Mr.  Steele  is  going  to  bring  him,"  said  Mrs. 
Reeves.  "  He  says — Norman  Steele  says,  that  Mr. 
Somers  is  a  first-class  all-around  chap,  and  no  end 
of  fun.  Says  he's  a  millionaire." 

"What's  a  millionaire  more  or  less  to  me?" 
laughed  Vicky.  "  I  choose  my  friends  for  their 
lovely  character,  not  for  their  wealth." 

"  Yes,  you've  selected  all  of  us  for  that,  dear," 
agreed  Mrs.  Reeves,  "  but  this  Somers  gentleman 
may  be  amiable,  too." 

Mrs.  Reeves  was  a  solid,  sensible  sort  of  person, 

2 


18  VICKY  VAN 

who  acted  as  ballast  for  the  volatile  Vicky,  and  some 
times  reprimanded  her  in  a  mild  way. 

"  I  love  the  child,"  she  had  said  to  me  once, 
"  and  she  is  a  little  brick.  But  once  in  a  while  I 
have  to  tell  her  a  few  things  for  the  good  of  the 
community.  She  takes  it  all  like  an  angel." 

"  Well,  I  don't  care,"  Vicky  went  on,  "  Norman 
Steele  has  no  right  to  bring  anybody  here  whom  he 
hasn't  asked  me  about.  If  I  don't  like  him,  I  shall 
ask  some  of  you  nice,  amiable  men  to  get  me  a 
long  plank,  and  we'll  put  it  out  of  a  window,  and 
make  him  walk  it.  Shall  we?  " 

We  all  agreed  to  do  this,  or  to  tar  and  feather 
and  ride  on  a  rail  any  gentleman  who  might  in  any 
way  be  so  unfortunate  as  to  fall  one  iota  short  of 
Vicky  Van's  requirements. 

"  And  now,"  said  Vicky,  "  if  you'll  all  please 
go  downstairs,  except  Mrs.  Reeves  and  Mr.  Garri 
son  and  my  own  sweet  self,  I'll  be  orfly  obliged  to 
you." 

The  sweeping  gesture  with  which  she  sought  to 
dismiss  us  was  a  wave  of  her  white  arms  and  a 
smile  of  her  red  lips,  and  I,  for  one,  found  it  im 
possible  to  obey.  I  started  with  the  rest,  and  then 
after  the  gay  crowd  were  part  way  down  stairs  I 
turned  back. 

"  Please,  mayn't  I  join  your  little  class,  if  I'll 


VICKY  VAN  19 

be  very  good  ?  "  I  begged.  "  I  don't  want  Bert 
Garrison  to  be  left  alone  at  the  mercy  of  two  such 
sirens." 

Miss  Van  Allen  hesitated.  Her  pink-tipped  fore 
finger  rested  a  moment  on  her  curved  lip.  "  Yes," 
she  said,  nodding  her  head.  "  Yes,  stay,  Mr.  Cal- 
houn.  You  may  be  a  help.  Are  you  any  good  at 
getting  theatre  boxes  after  they're  all  sold?  " 

'  That's  my  profession,"  I  returned.  "  I  learned 
it  from  a  correspondence  school.  Where's  the 
theatre  ?  Lead  me  to  it !  " 

"  It's  the  Metropolis  Theatre,"  she  replied. 
"  And  I  want  to  have  a  party  there  to-morrow 
night,  and  I  want  two  boxes,  and  this  awful,  dread 
ful,  bad  Mr.  Garrison  says  they're  all  sold,  and  I 
can't  get  any!  What  can  you  do  about  it?  " 

"  Oh,  I'll  fix  it.  I'll  go  to  the  people  who  bought 
the  boxes  you  want,  and — I  don't  know  what  I'll 
say  to  them,  exactly — but  I'll  fix  up  such  a  yarn  that 
they'll  beg  me  to  take  the  boxes  off  their  hands." 

"  Oh,  will  you,  really?  "  and  the  dazzling  smile 
she  gave  me  would  have  repaid  a  much  greater 
Herculean  task  than  I  had  undertaken.  And,  of 
course,  I  hadn't  meant  it,  but  when  she  thought  I 
did,  I  couldn't  go  back  on  my  word. 

"  I'll  do  my  best,  Miss  Van  Allen,"  I  said,  seri 
ously,  "  and  if  I  can't  possibly  turn  the  trick,  I'll 


20  VICKY  VAN 

— well,  I'll  buy  the  Metropolitan  Opera  House,  and 
put  on  a  show  of  my  own." 

"  No,"  she  laughed,  "  you  needn't  do  that.  But 
if  you  try  and  fail — why,  we'll  just  have  a  little 
party  here,  a  sort  of  consolation  party,  and — oh, 
let's  have  some  private  theatricals.  Wouldn't  that 
be  fun!" 

"  More  fun  than  the  original  program?  "  I  asked 
quickly,  hoping  to  be  let  off  my  promise. 

"  No,  sir !  "  she  cried,  "  decidedly  not !  I  want 
especially  to  have  that  theatre  party  and  supper 
afterward  at  the  Britz.  Now  you  do  all  you  can, 
won't  you?  " 

I  promised  to  do  all  I  could,  and  I  had  a  partial 
hope  I  could  get  what  she  wanted  by  hook  or  crook, 
and  then,  as  she  heard  a  specially  favorite  fox-trot 
being  dashed  off  on  the  piano  downstairs,  she 
sprang  from  her  seat,  and  kicking  the  satin  cushion 
aside,  asked  me  to  dance.  In  a  moment  we  were 
whirling  around  the  music  room  to  the  zipping 
music,  and  Mrs.  Reeve  and  Garrison  followed  in 
our  steps. 

Vicky  danced  with  a  natural  born  talent  that  is 
quite  unlike  anything  acquired  by  lessons.  I  had 
no  need  to  guide  her,  she  divined  my  lead,  and 
swayed  in  any  direction,  even  as  I  was  about  to 
indicate  it.  I  had  never  danced  with  anyone  who 


VICKY  VAN  21 

danced  so  well,  and  I  was  profuse  in  my  thanks 
and  praise. 

"  I  love  it,"  she  said  simply,  as  she  patted  the 
gold  fringes  of  her  gown  into  place.  "  I  adore  dan 
cing,  and  you  are  one  of  the  best  partners  I  have 
ever  had.  Come,  let  us  go  down  and  cut  into  a 
Bridge  game.  We'll  just  about  have  time  before 
supper." 

Pirouetting  before  me,  she  led  the  way,  and 
we  went  down  the  long  steep  stairs. 

A  shout  greeted  her  appearance  in  the  doorway. 

"  Oh,  Vicky,  we  have  missed  you !  Come  over 
here  and  listen  to  Ted's  latest  old  joke!  " 

"  No,  come  over  here  and  hear  this  awful  gossip 
Ariadne  is  telling  for  solemn  truth.  It's  the  very 
worst  taradiddle  she  ever  got  off !  " 

"  Here's  a  place,  Vicky  Van,  a  nice  cosy  corner, 
'tween  Jim  and  me.  Come  on,  Ladygirl." 

"  No,  thanks,  everybody.  I'm  going  to  cut  in 
at  this  table.  May  I?  Am  I  a  nuisance?  " 

"  A  Vicky-nuisance !  They  ain't  no  such  ani 
mal  !  "  and  Bailey  Mason  rose  to  give  her  his  chair. 

"  No,"  said  she,  "  I  want  you  to  stay,  Mr.  Mason. 
'Cause  why,  I  want  to  play  wiz  you.  Cassie,  you 
give  me  your  place,  won't  you,  Ducky-Daddies? 
and  you  go  and  flirt  with  Mr.  Calhoun.  He  knows 
the  very  newest  flirts !  Go,  give  him  a  tryout." 


22  VICKY  VAN 

Vicky  Van  settled  herself  into  her  seat  with  the 
happy  little  sigh  of  the  bridge  lover,  who  sits  down 
with  three  good  players,  and  in  another  moment 
she  was  breathlessly  looking  over  her  hand.  "  With 
out,"  she  said,  triumphantly,  and  knowing  she'd  say 
no  word  more  to  me  for  the  present,  I  walked  away 
with  Cassie  Weldon. 

And  Cassie  was  good  fun.  She  took  me  to  the 
piano,  and  with  the  soft  pedal  down,  she  showed  me 
a  new  little  tone  picture  she  had  made  up,  which 
was  both  picturesque  and  funny. 

"  You'd  better  go  into  vaudeville !"  I  exclaimed, 
as  she  finished,  "  your  talent  is  wasted  on  the  con 
cert  platform." 

"  That's  what  Vicky  tells  me,"  she  returned. 
"  Sometimes  I  believe  I  will  try  it,  just  for  fun." 

"  You'll  find  it  such  fun,  you'll  stay  in  for  earn 
est,"  I  assured  her,  for  she  had  shown  a  bit  of  in 
ventive  genius  that  I  felt  sure  would  make  good  in 
a  little  musical  turn. 


CHAPTER  II 

MR.    SOMERS 

IT  was  nearly  midnight  when  Steele  came,  and 
with  him  was  a  man  I  had  never  seen  before,  and 
whom  I  assumed  to  be  the  Mr.  Somers  I  had  heard 
about. 

And  it  was.  As  Steele  entered,  he  cast  his  eye 
around  for  Vicky,  and  saw  her  at  the  bridge  table 
down  at  the  end  of  the  room.  Her  back  was 
toward  us,  and  she  was  so  absorbed  in  the  game  she 
did  not  look  round,  if,  indeed,  she  heard  the  noise 
of  their  arrival. 

The  two  men  stopped  near  the  group  I  was  with 
and  Steele  introduced  Mr.  Somers. 

A  little  curiously  I  looked  at  him,  and  saw  a 
large,  self-satisfied  looking  man  wearing  an  expan 
sive  smile  and  expensive  apparel.  Clothes  the  very 
best  procurable,  jewelry  just  inside  the  limits  of 
good  taste — he  bore  himself  like  a  gentleman,  yet 
there  was  an  unmistakable  air  of  ostentatious  wealth 
that  repelled  me.  A  second  look  made  me  think  Mr. 
Somers  had  dined  either  late  or  twice,  but  his  greet 
ings  were  courteous  and  genial  and  his  manner 
sociable,  if  a  little  patronizing.  He  seemed  a  stranger 

28 


24  VICKY  VAN 

to  all  present,  and  his  eye  roved  about  for  the  charm 
ing  hostess  Steele  had  told  him  of. 

"  We'll  reach  Miss  Van  Allen  presently,"  Steele 
laughed,  in  answer  to  the  glance,  "  if,  indeed,  we 
dare  interrupt  her  game.  Let's  make  progress 
slowly." 

"  No  hurry,"  returned  Somers,  affably,  beam 
ing  on  Cassie  Weldon  and  meeting  Ariadne  Gale's 
receptive  smile.  "  I'm  anchored  here  for  the 
moment.  Miss  Weldon?  Ah,  yes,  I've  heard  you 
sing.  Voice  like  a  lark — like  a  lark." 

Clearly,  Somers  was  not  much  of  a  purveyor  of 
small  talk.  I  sized  him  up  for  a  lumbering  oldster, 
who  wanted  to  be  playful  but  didn't  quite  know  how. 

He  had  rather  an  austere  face,  yet  there  was  a 
gleam  in  his  eye  that  belied  the  austerity.  His 
cheeks  were  fat  and  red,  his  nose  prominent,  and  he 
was  clean  shaven,  save  for  a  thick  white  mustache, 
that  drooped  slightly  on  either  side  of  a  full-lipped 
mouth.  His  hair  was  white,  his  eyes  dark  and  deep- 
set,  and  he  could  easily  be  called  a  handsome  man. 
He  was  surely  fifty,  and  perhaps  more.  Had  it  not 
been  for  a  certain  effusiveness  in  his  speech,  I  could 
have  liked  him,  but  he  seemed  to  me  to  lack 
sincerity. 

However,  I  am  not  one  to  judge  harshly  or 


MR.  SOMERS  25 

hastily,  and  I  met  him  half  way,  and  even  helped 
him  in  his  efforts  at  gay  affability. 

"You've  never  been  here  before?"  I  asked; 
"  Good  old  Steele  to  bring  you  to-night." 

"  No,  never  before,"  and  he  glanced  around  ap 
preciatively,  "  but  I  shall,  I  hope,  come  often. 
Charming  little  nest;  charming  ladies!"  a  bow  in 
cluded  those  nearest. 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  babbled  Ariadne,  "  fair  women 
and  brave  men." 

"  Brave,  yes,"  agreed  Somers,  "  to  dare  the 
glances  of  such  bright  eyes.  I  must  protect  my 
heart !  "  He  clasped  his  fat  hands  pretty  near  where 
his  heart  was  situated,  and  grinned  with  delight  as 
Ariadne  also  "  protected  "  her  heart. 

"  Ah,"  he  cried,  "  two  hearts  in  danger!  I  feel 
sure  we  shall  be  friends,  if  only  because  misery 
loves  company." 

"  Is  it  really  misery  with  you?  "  and  Ariadne's 
sympathy  was  so  evidently  profound,  that  Cassie 
Weldon  and  I  walked  away. 

"  I'll  give  Ariad  her  innings,"  said  the  vivacious 
Miss  Weldon,  "  and  I'll  make  up  to  the  Somers  kid 
later.  Where'd  Vicky  pick  him  up?  " 

"  She  doesn't  know  him  at  all.  Norman  Steele 
brought  him  unbeknownst." 


26  VICKY  VAN 

"No!  Why,  Vick  doesn't  allow  that  sort  of 
thing." 

"  So  I'm  told.     Any  way,  Steel  did  it." 

"  Well,  Vicky's  such  a  good-natured  darling, 
maybe  she  won't  mind  for  once.  She  won't,  if  she 
likes  the  little  stranger.  He's  well-meaning,  at  any 
rate." 

"  So's  Ariadne.  From  her  smile,  I  think  she 
well  means  to  sell  him  her  latest  'Autumn  In  The 
Adirondacks,'  or  '  Lady  With  A  Handbag  '." 

"Now,  don't  be  mean!"  but  Cassie  laughed. 
"  And  I  don't  blame  her  if  she  does.  Poor  Ad 
paints  above  the  heads  of  the  public,  so  if  this  is 
a  high-up  Publican,  she'd  better  make  sales  while 
the  sun  shines." 

"What's  her  work  like?" 

"  You  can  see  more  of  it  in  this  house  than 
anywhere  else.  Vicky  is  so  fond  of  Ariadne  and 
so  sorry  her  pictures  don't  sell  better,  that  she  buys 
a  lot  herself." 

"  Does  Miss  Gale  know  Miss  Van  Allen  does 
it  out  of " 

"  Don't  say  charity !  No,  they're  really  good 
stuff,  and  Vicky  buys  'em  for  Christmas  gifts  and 
bridge  prizes." 

"  Does  she  ever  play  for  prizes?  I  thought  she 
liked  a  bit  of  a  stake,  now." 


MR.  SOMERS  27 

"  Yes,  at  evening  parties.  But,  often  we  have 
a  dove  game  of  an  afternoon,  with  prizes  and  pink 
tea.  Vicky  Van  isn't  a  gay  doll,  you  know.  She's 
— sometimes,  she's  positively  domestic.  I  wish  she 
had  a  nice  husband  and  some  little  kiddies." 

"Why  hasn't  she?" 

"  Give  it  up.  She's  never  seen  any  man  she 
loved,  I  s'pose.'' 

"  Perhaps  she'll  love  this  Somers  person." 

"  Heaven  forbid !  Nothing  less  than  a  crown 
prince  would  suit  Vicky  Van.  Look,  she's  turn 
ing  to  meet  him.  Won't  he  be  bowled  over!" 

I  turned,  and  though  there  were  several  people 
between  us,  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  Somers'  face  as 
he  was  presented  to  Miss  Van  Allen.  He  was 
bowled  over.  His  eyes  beamed  with  admiration  and 
he  bowed  low  as  he  raised  to  his  lips  the  dainty, 
bejeweled  hand. 

Vicky,  apparently,  did  not  welcome  this  old-time 
greeting,  and  she  drew  away  her  hand,  saying,  "  not 
allowed.  Naughty  man !  Express  proper  compunc 
tion,  or  you  can't  sit  next  me  at  supper !  " 

"  Forgive  me,"  begged  Somers.  "  I'm  sorry ! 
I'll  never  do  it  again — until  after  I  sit  next  you 
at  supper!" 

"  More  brains  than  I  thought,"  I  said  to  Cassie, 


28  VICKY  VAN 

who  nodded,  and  then  Vicky  Van  rose  from  her 
chair. 

"  Take  my  place  for  a  moment,  Mr.  Somers," 
she  said,  standing  before  him.  "  I —  "  she  dropped 
her  eyes  adorably,  "  I  must  see  about  the  arrange 
ment  of  seats  at  the  supper  table."  With  a  merry 
laugh,  she  ran  from  the  room,  and  through  the  long 
hall  to  the  dining-room. 

Somers  dropped  into  her  vacant  chair,  and  con 
tinued  the  Bridge  game  with  the  air  of  one  who 
knows  how  to  play. 

In  less  than  five  minutes  Vicky  was  back.  "  No, 
keep  the  hand,"  she  said,  as  he  rose.  "  I've  played 
long  enough.  And  supper  will  be  ready  shortly." 

"  Finish  the  rubber, —  I  insist,"  Somers  returned, 
and  as  he  determinedly  stood  behind  the  chair, 
Vicky,  perforce,  sat  down. 

He  continued  to  stand  behind  her  chair,  watch 
ing  her  play.  Vicky  was  too  sure  of  her  game  to 
be  rattled  at  his  close  scrutiny,  but  it  seemed  to  me 
her  shoulders  shrugged  a  little  impatiently,  as  he 
criticized  or  commended  her  plays. 

She  had  thrown  a  light  scarf  of  gauze  or  tulle 
around  when  she  was  out  of  the  room,  and  being 
the  same  color  as  her  gown,  it  made  her  seem  more 
than  ever  like  an  houri.  She  smiled  up  into  Somers' 
face,  and  then,  coyly,  her  long  lashes  fell  on  her 


MR.  SOMERS  29 

pink  cheeks.  Evidently,  she  had  concluded  to  be 
witch  the  newcomer,  and  she  was  making  good. 

I  drew  nearer,  principally  because  I  liked  to  look 
at  her.  She  was  a  live  wire  to-night!  She  looked 
roguish,  and  she  made  most  brilliant  plays,  tossing 
down  her  cards  with  gay  little  gestures,  and  doing 
trick  shuffles  with  her  twinkling  fingers. 

"  You  could  have  had  that  last  trick,  if  you'd 
played  for  it,"  Somers  said,  as  the  rubber  finished. 

"  I  know  it,"  Vicky  conceded.  "  I  saw,  just 
too  late,  that  I  was  getting  the  lead  into  the  wrong 
hand." 

"  Well,  don't  ever  do  that  again,"  he  said,  lightly, 
"  never  again." 

As  he  said  the  last  word,  he  laid  his  finger  tips 
on  her  shoulder.  It  was  the  veriest  touch,  the 
shoulder  was  swathed  in  the  transparent  tulle,  but 
still,  it  roused  Vicky.  She  glanced  up  at  him,  and 
I  looked  at  him,  too.  But  Somers  was  not  in  flirta 
tious  mood.  He  said,  "  I  beg  your  pardon,"  in  most 
correct  fashion.  Had  he  then,  touched  her  inadvert 
ently?  It  didn't  seem  so,  but  his  speech  assured  it. 

Vicky  jumped  up  from  the  table,  and  ignoring 
Somers,  ran  out  to  the  hall,  saying  something  about 
looking  after  the  surprise  for  the  supper.  To  my 
surprise,  Somers  followed  her,  not  hastily,  but 
rather  deliberately,  and,  quelling  an  absurd  impulse  to 


30  VICKY  VAN 

go,  too,  I  turned  to  Norman  Steele,  who  stood  near. 

"  Who's  this  Somers?  "  I  asked  him,  rather  ab 
ruptly.  "Is  he  all  right?" 

"  You  bet,"  said  Steele,  smiling.  "  He's  a  top- 
notcher." 

"  In  what  respects?  " 

"  Every  and  all." 

"  You've  known  him  long?  " 

"  Yes.  I  tell  you  Cal,  he's  all  right.  Forget  it. 
What's  the  surprise  for  supper?  Do  you  know?" 

"Of  course  not.  It  wouldn't  be  a  surprise  if 
we  all  knew  of  it." 

"  Well,  Vicky's  surprises  are  always  great  fun. 
Why  the  grouch,  old  man?  Can't  you  chirrup?  " 

"  Oh,  I'm  all  right,"  and  I  felt  annoyed  that  he 
read  in  my  face  that  I  was  put  out.  But  I  didn't 
like  the  looks  of  Somers,  and  I  couldn't  say  so  to 
the  man  who  had  brought  him  there. 

"Oh,  please!  Oh,  please!"  shouted  a  hoarse, 
strange  voice,  and  one  scarcely  to  be  heard  above  the 
hum  of  gay  voices  and  peals  of  gay  laughter,  "  oh, 
somebody,  please !  " 

I  looked  across  the  room,  and  in  the  wide  hall 
doorway  stood  a  man,  who  was  quite  evidently  a 
waiter.  He  was  white-faced  and  staring-eyed,  and 
he  fairly  hung  on  to  a  portiere  for  support,  as  he 
repeated  his  agonized  plea. 


MR.  SOMERS  31 

"What  is  it?"  said  Mrs.  Reeves,  as  everybody 
else  stared  at  the  man.  "  What  do  you  want  ?  " 
She  stepped  toward  him,  and  we  all  turned  to  look. 

"  Not  you — no,  Madame.  Some  man,  please — 
some  doctor.  Is  there  one  here?  " 

"  Some  of  the  servants  ill?  "  asked  Mrs.  Reeves, 
kindly.  "  Doctor  Remson,  will  you  come?  " 

The  pleasant- faced  capable-looking  woman 
paused  only  until  Doctor  Remson  joined  her,  and 
the  two  went  into  the  hall,  the  waiter  following 
slowly. 

In  a  moment  I  heard  a  shriek,  a  wild  scream. 
Partly  curiosity  and  partly  a  foreboding  of  harm  to 
Vicky  Van,  made  me  rush  forward. 

Mrs.  Reeves  had  screamed,  and  I  ran  the  length 
of  the  hall  to  the  dining  room.  There  I  saw  Somers 
on  the  floor,  and  Remson  bending  over  him. 

"He's  killed!  He's  stabbed!"  cried  Mrs. 
Reeves,  clutching  at  my  arm  as  I  reached  her.  "  Oh, 
what  shall  we  do?  " 

She  stood  just  in  the  dining-room  doorway, 
which  was  at  the  end  of  the  long  hall,  as  in  most 
city  houses.  The  room  was  but  dimly  lighted,  the 
table  candles  not  yet  burning. 

"  Keep  the  people  back !  "  I  shouted,  as  those  in 
the  living-room  pressed  out  into  the  hall.  "  Steele, 
keep  those  girls  back !  " 


32  VICKY  VAN 

There  was  an  awful  commotion.  The  men  urged 
the  women  back,  but  curiosity  and  horror  made  them 
surge  forward  in  irresistible  force. 

"  Shut  the  door,"  whispered  Remson.  "  This 
man  is  dead.  It's  an  awful  situation.  Shut  that 
door!" 

Somehow,  I  managed  to  get  the  door  closed  be 
tween  the  dining-room  and  hall.  On  the  inside  were 
Remson,  Mrs.  Reeves,  who  wouldn't  budge,  and 
myself.  Outside  in  the  hall  was  a  crowd  of  hys 
terical  women  and  frightened  men. 

"  Are  you  sure?  "  I  asked,  in  a  low  voice,  going 
nearer  to  the  doctor  and  looking  at  Somers'  fast- 
glazing  eyes. 

"  Sure.  He  was  stabbed  straight  to  the  heart 
with — see — a  small,  sharp  knife." 

Her  hands  over  her  eyes,  but  peering  through 
her  ringers,  Mrs.  Reeves  drew  near.  "  Not  really," 
she  moaned.  "  Oh,  not  really  dead !  Can't  we  do 
anything  for  him  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Remson,  rising  to  his  feet,  from 
his  kneeling  position.  "  He's  dead,  I  tell  you.  Who 
did  it?" 

"  That  waiter — "  I  began,  and  then  stopped. 
Looking  in  from  a  door  opposite  the  hall  door,  prob 
ably  one  that  led  to  a  butler's  pantry  or  kitchen,  were 
half  a  dozen  white-faced  waiters. 


MR.  SOMERS  33 

"  Come  in  here,"  said  Remson;  "  not  all  of  you. 
Which  is  chief  ?  " 

"  I  am,  sir,"  and  a  head  waiter  came  into  the 
room.  "  What  has  happened?  " 

"  A  man  has  been  killed,"  said  the  doctor, 
shortly.  "  Who  are  you  ?  Who  are  you  all  ?  House 
servants  ?  " 

"  No  sir,"  said  the  chief.  "  We're  caterer's  men. 
From  Fraschini's.  I'm  Luigi.  We  are  here  to  serve 
supper." 

"  What  do  you  know  of  this  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  sir,"  and  the  Italian  looked  truthful, 
though  scared. 

"  Haven't  you  been  in  and  out  of  the  dining- 
room  all  evening?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.  Setting  the  table,  and  such.  But 
now  it's  all  ready,  and  I  was  waiting  Miss  Van 
Allen's  word  to  serve  it." 

"  Where  is  Miss  Van  Allen?  "  I  broke  in. 

"  I — I  don't  know,  sir,"  Luigi  hesitated,  and 
Doctor  Remson  interrupted. 

"  We  mustn't  ask  these  questions,  Mr.  Calhoun. 
We  must  call  the  police." 

"  The  police!  "  cried  Mrs.  Reeves,  "  oh  no!  no! 
don't  do  that." 

"  It  is  my  duty,"  said  the  doctor,  firmly.  "  And 
no  one  must  enter  or  leave  this  room  until  an  offi- 

8 


34  VICKY  VAN 

cer  arrives.  You  waiters,  stay  there  in  that  pantry. 
Close  those  doors  to  the  other  room,  Mr.  Calhoun, 
please.  Mrs.  Reeves,  I'm  sorry,  but  I  must  ask  you 
to  stay  here " 

"  I  won't  do  it!  "  declared  the  lady.  "  You're 
not  an  officer  of  the  law.  I'll  stay  in  the  house,  but 
not  in  this  room." 

She  stalked  out  into  the  hall,  and  Doctor  Rem- 
son  went  at  once  to  the  telephone  and  called  up 
headquarters. 

The  guests  in  the  living  room,  hearing  this,  flew 
into  a  panic. 

Of  course,  it  was  no  longer  possible,  nor,  as  I 
could  see,  desirable  to  keep  them  in  ignorance  of 
what  had  happened. 

After  calling  the  police,  Doctor  Remson  returned 
to  his  post  just  inside  the  dining-room  door.  He 
answered  questions  patiently,  at  first,  but  after  being 
nearly  driven  crazy  by  the  frantic  women,  he  said, 
sharply,  "  You  may  all  do  just  as  you  like.  I've 
no  authority  here,  except  that  the  ethics  of  my  pro 
fession  dictate.  That  does  not  extend  to  jurisdic 
tion  over  the  guests  present.  But  I  advise  you  as  a 
matter  of  common  decency  to  stay  here  until  this 
affair  is  investigated." 

But  they  didn't.     Many  of  them  hastily  gath- 


MR.  SOMERS  35 

ered  up  their  wraps  and  went  out  of  the  house  as 
quickly  as  possible. 

Cassie  Weldon  came  to  me  in  her  distress. 

"  I  must  go,  Mr.  Calhoun,"  she  said.  "  Don't 
you  think  I  may?  Why,  it  would  interfere  greatly 
with  my  work  to  have  it  known  that  I  was  mixed 
up  in  a — 

"  You're  not  mixed  up  in  it,  Miss  Weldon."  I 
began  to  speak  a  little  sternly,  but  the  look  in  her 
eyes  aroused  my  sympathy.  "  Well,  go  on,"  I  said, 
"  I  suppose  you  will  testify  if  called  on.  Every 
body  knows  where  to  find  you." 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  slowly,  "  but  I  hope  I  won't 
be  called  on.  Why,  it  might  spoil  my  whole  career." 

She  slipped  out  of  the  door,  in  the  wake  of  some 
other  departing  guests.  After  all,  I  thought,  it 
couldn't  matter  much.  Few,  if  any,  of  them  were 
implicated,  and  they  could  all  be  found  at  their 
homes. 

And  yet,  I  had  a  vague  idea  that  we  ought  all 
to  stay. 

"  I  shall  remain  and  face  the  music,"  I  heard 
Mrs.  Reeves  saying.  "Where  is  Vicky?  Do  you 
suppose  she  knows  about  this?  I'm  going  up  in  the 
music  room  to  see  if  she's  there.  You  know,  with 
all  the  excitement  down  here,  those  upstairs  may 
know  nothing  of  it." 


36  VICKY  VAN 

"  I  shall  remain,  too,"  said  Ariadne  Gale.  "  Why 
should  anyone  kill  Mr.  Somers?  Did  the  caterer's 
people  do  it?  What  an  awful  thing!  Will  it  be  in 
the  papers  ?  " 

"Will  it!"  said  Garrison,  who  was  standing 
near.  "  Reporters  may  be  here  any  minute.  Must 
be  here  as  soon  as  the  police  come.  Where  is  Miss 
Van  Allen?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  and  Ariadne  began  to  cry. 

"  Stop  that,"  said  Mrs.  Reeves,  gruffly,  but  not 
unkindly.  "  Stay  if  you  want  to,  Ariadne,  but  be 
have  like  a  sensible  woman,  not  a  silly  schoolgirl. 
This  is  an  awful  tragedy,  of  some  sort." 

"What  do  you  mean,  of  some  sort?"  asked 
Miss  Gale. 

"  I  mean  we  don't  know  what  revelations  are 
yet  to  come.  Where's  Norman  Steele?  Where's 
the  man  who  brought  this  Somers  here?  " 

Sure  enough,  where  was  Steele?  I  had  for 
gotten  all  about  him.  And  it  was  he  who  had  in 
troduced  Somers  to  the  Van  Allen  house,  and  no 
one  else  present,  so  far  as  I  knew,  was  previously 
acquainted  with  the  man  now  lying  dead  the  other 
side  of  that  closed  door. 

I  looked  over  the  people  who  had  stayed.  Only 
a  handful — perhaps  half  a  dozen. 

And  then  I   wondered  if  I'd  better  go  home 


MR.  SOMERS  37 

myself.  Not  for  my  own  sake,  in  any  way ;  indeed, 
I  preferred  to  remain,  but  I  thought  of  Aunt  Lucy 
and  Win.  Ought  I  to  bring  on  them  any  shadow 
of  trouble  or  opprobrium  that  might  result  from  my 
presence  in  that  house  at  that  time?  Would  it  not 
be  better  to  go  while  I  could  do  so?  For,  once  the 
police  took  charge,  I  knew  I  should  be  called  on  to 
testify  in  public.  And  even  as  I  debated  with  my 
self,  the  police  arrived. 


CHAPTER  III 
THE  WAITER'S  STORY 

DOCTOR  REM SON'S  police  call  had  been  impera 
tive,  and  Inspector  Mason  came  in  with  two  men. 

"What's  this?  What's  wrong  here?"  the  big 
burly  inspector  said,  as  he  faced  the  few  of  us  who 

• 

had  remained. 

"  Come  in  here,  inspector,"  said  the  doctor,  from 
the  dining-room  door. 

And  from  that  moment  the  whole  aspect  of  the 
house  seemed  to  change.  No  longer  a  gay  little 
bijou  residence,  it  became  a  court  of  justice. 

One  of  the  men  was  stationed  at  the  street  door 
and  one  at  the  area  door  below.  Headquarters  was 
notified  of  details.  The  coroner  was  summoned, 
and  we  were  all  for  the  moment  under  detention. 

"  Where  is  Miss  Van  Allen  ?  Where  is  the  lady 
of  the  house?  "  asked  Mason.  "  Where  are  the  ser 
vants?  Who  is  in  charge  here?  " 

Was  ever  a  string  of  questions  so  impossible  of 
answers ! 

Doctor  Remson  told  the  main  facts,  but  he  was 
reticent.  I,  too,  hesitated  to  say  much,  for  the  case 
was  strange  indeed. 

88 


THE  WAITER'S  STORY  39 

Mrs.  Reeves  looked  gravely  concerned,  but  said 
nothing. 

Ariadne  Gale  began  to  babble.  That  girl  didn't 
know  how  to  be  quiet. 

"  I  guess  Miss  Van  Allen  is  upstairs,"  she  vol 
unteered.  "  She  was  in  the  dining-room,  but  she 
isn't  here  now,  so  she  must  be  upstairs.  Shall  I  go 
and  see?  " 

"  No!  "  thundered  the  inspector.  "  Stay  where 
you  are.  "  Search  the  house,  Breen.  I'll  cover  the 
street  door." 

The  man  he  called  Breen  went  upstairs  on  the 
jump,  and  Mason  continued.  "  Tell  the  story,  one 
of  you.  Who  is  this  man?  Who  killed  him?  " 

As  he  talked,  the  inspector  was  examining 
Somers'  body,  making  rapid  notes  in  a  little  book, 
keeping  his  eye  on  the  door,  and  darting  quick 
glances  at  each  of  us,  as  he  tried  to  grasp  the 
situation. 

I  looked  at  Bert  Garrison,  who  was  perhaps  the 
most  favored  of  Miss  Van  Allen's  friends,  but  he 
shook  his  head,  so  I  threw  myself  into  the  breach. 

"  Inspector,"  I  said,  "  that  man's  name  is  Somers. 
Further  than  that  I  know  nothing.  He  is  a  stranger 
to  all  of  us,  and  he  came  to  this  house  to-night  for 
the  first  time  in  his  life." 


40  VICKY  VAN 

"  Hovv'd  he  happen  to  come?  Friend  of  Miss 
Van  Allen?" 

"  He  met  her  to-night  for  the  first  time.  He 

came  here  with "  I  paused.  It  was  so  hard  to 

know  what  to  do.  Steele  had  gone  home,  ought  I 
to  implicate  him? 

"  Go  on — came  here  with  whom?  "  The  truth, 
now." 

"  I  usually  speak  the  truth,"  I  returned,  shortly. 
"  He  came  with  Mr.  Norman  Steele." 

"Where  is  Mr.  Steele?" 

"  He  has  gone.  There  were  a  great  many  people 
here,  and,  naturally,  some  of  them  went  away  when 
this  tragedy  was  discovered." 

"  Humph !  Then,  of  course,  the  guilty  party 
escaped.  But  we  are  getting  nowhere.  Does  no 
body  know  anything  of  this  man,  but  his  name?  " 

Nobody  did ;  but  Ariadne  piped  up,  "  He  was  a 
delightful  man.  He  told  me  he  was  a  great  patron 
of  art,  and  often  bought  pictures." 

Paying  little  heed  to  her,  the  inspector  was  en 
deavoring  to  learn  from  the  dead  man's  property 
something  more  about  him. 

"  No  letters  or  papers,"  he  said,  disappointedly, 
as  he  turned  out  the  pockets.  "  Not  unusual — in 
evening  togs — but  not  even  a  card  or  anything  per 
sonal — looks  queer " 


41 

"  Look  in  his  watch,"  said  Ariadne,  bridling 
with  importance. 

Giving  her  a  keen  glance,  the  inspector  followed 
her  suggestion.  In  the  back  of  the  case  was  a  pic 
ture  of  a  coquettish  face,  undoubtedly  that  of  an 
actress.  It  was  not  carefully  fastened  in,  but 
roughly  cut  out  and  pressed  in  with  ragged  edges. 

"  Temporary,"  grunted  the  inspector,  "  and  re 
cently  stuck  in.  Some  chicken  he  took  out  to  sup 
per.  He's  a  club  man,  you  say?  " 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Steele  said  so,  and  also  vouched  for 
his  worth  and  character."  I  resented  the  inspector's 
attitude.  Though  I  knew  nothing  of  Somers,  and 
didn't  altogether  like  him,  yet,  I  saw  no  reason  to 
think  ill  of  the  dead,  until  circumstances  war 
ranted  it. 

Further  search  brought  a  thick  roll  of  money, 
some  loose  silver,  a  key-ring  with  seven  or  eight 
keys,  eyeglasses  in  a  silver  case,  handkerchiefs,  a 
gold  pencil,  a  knife,  and  such  trifles  as  any  man 
might  have  in  his  pockets,  but  no  directly  identifying 
piece  of  property. 

R.  S.  was  embroidered  in  tiny  white  letters  on 
the  handkerchiefs,  and  a  monogram  R.  S.  was  on 
his  seal  ring. 

His  jewelry,  which  was  costly,  the  inspector  did 
not  touch.  There  were  magnificent  pearl  studs,  a 


42  VICKY  VAN 

watch  fob,  set  with  a  black  opal  and  pearl  cuff 
links.  Examination  of  his  hat  showed  the  pierced 
letters  R.  S.,  but  nothing  gave  clue  to  his  Christian 
name. 

"  Somers,"  said  the  inspector,  musingly.  "  What 
club  does  he  belong  to?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  I  replied.  "  Mr.  Steele  belongs 
to  several,  but  Mr.  Somers  does  not  belong  to  any 
that  I  do.  At  least,  I've  never  seen  him  at  any." 

"  Call  in  the  servants.  Let's  find  out  something 
about  this  household." 

As  no  one  else  moved  to  do  it,  I  stepped  to  the 
door  of  the  butler's  pantry,  and  summoned  the  head 
waiter  of  the  caterer. 

"  Where  are  the  house  servants?  "  I  asked  him. 

"  There  aren't  any,  sir,"  he  replied,  looking 
shudderingly  at  the  grisly  form  on  the  floor. 

"  No  servants  ?  In  a  house  of  this  type !  What 
do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  That's  true,"  said  Mrs.  Reeves,  breaking  her 
silence,  at  last.  "  Miss  Van  Allen  has  a  very  capa 
ble  woman,  who  is  housekeeper  and  ladies'  maid  in 
one.  But  when  guests  are  here,  the  suppers  are 
served  from  the  caterer's." 

"  Then  call  the  housekeeper.  And  where  is  Miss 
Van  Allen  herself?" 


THE  WAITER'S  STORY  43 

"  She's  not  in  the  house,"  said  the  policeman 
Breen,  returning  from  his  search. 

"  Not  in  the  house !  "  cried  Mrs.  Reeves.  "  Where 
is  she?" 

"  I've  been  all  over — every  room — every  floor. 
She  isn't  in  the  house.  There's  nobody  upstairs  at 
all." 

"  No  housekeeper  or  maid?  "  demanded  Mason. 
"  Then  they've  got  away !  Here,  waiter,  tell  me  all 
you  know  of  this  thing." 

The  Italian  Luigi  came  forward,  shaking  with 
terror,  and  wringing  his  fingers  nervously. 

"  I  d — don't  know  anything  about  it,"  he  began, 
but  Mason  interrupted,  "You  do!  You  know  all 
about  it !  Did  you  kill  this  man  ?  " 

"No!     Dio  mio!     No!  a  thousand  no's!" 

"  Then,  unless  you  wish  to  be  suspected  of  it, 
tell  all  you  know." 

A  commotion  at  the  door  heralded  the  coroner's 
arrival,  also  a  detective  and  a  couple  of  plain  clothes 
men.  Clearly,  here  was  a  mysterious  case. 

The  coroner  at  once  took  matters  in  his  own 
hands.  Inspector  Mason  told  him  all  that  had  been 
learned  so  far,  and  though  Coroner  Fenn  seemed  to 
think  matters  had  been  pretty  well  bungled,  he  made 
no  comment  and  proceeded  with  the  inquiries. 

"  Sure  there's  nobody  upstairs?  "  he  asked  Breen. 


44  VICKY  VAN 

"  Positive.  I  looked  in  every  nook  and  cranny. 
I've  raked  the  whole  house,  but  the  basement  and 
kitchen  part." 

"  Go  down  there,  then,  and  then  go  back  and 
search  upstairs  again.  Somebody  may  be  hiding. 
Who  here  knows  Miss  Van  Allen  the  most 
intimately?  " 

"  Perhaps  I  do,"  said  Mrs.  Reeves.  "  Or  Miss 
Gale.  We  are  both  her  warm  friends." 

"  I'm  also  her  friend,"  volunteered  Bert  Garri 
son.  "  And  I  can  guarantee  that  if  Miss  Van  Allen 
has  fled  from  this  house  it  was  out  of  sheer  fright. 
She  never  saw  this  man  until  to-night.  He  was  a 
stranger  to  us  all." 

"  Where's  the  housekeeper?  "  went  on  Fenn. 

"I  think  she  must  be  somewhere  about,"  said 
Mrs.  Reeves.  "  Perhaps  in  the  kitchen.  Julie  is  an 
all  round  capable  woman.  When  there  are  no  guests 
she  prepares  Miss  Van  Allen's  meals  herself.  When 
company  is  present  the  caterer  always  is  employed." 

"And  there  are  no  other  servants?" 

"  Not  permanent  ones,"  replied  Mrs.  Reeves. 
"  I  believe  the  laundress  and  chore  boy  come  by  the 
day,  also  cleaning  women  and  such.  But  I  know 
that  Miss  Van  Allen  has  no  resident  servant  besides 
the  maid  Julie." 

"  This  woman  must  be  found,"  snapped  the  cor- 


THE  WAITER'S  STORY  45 

oner.  "  But  we  must  first  of  all  identify  the  body. 
Mason,  call  up  the  principal  clubs  on  the  telephone, 
and  locate  R.  Somers.  Also  find  Mr.  Norman 
Steele.  Now,  Luigi,  let's  have  your  story." 

The  trembling  waiter  stammered  incoherently, 
and  said  little  of  moment. 

"  Look  here,"  said  Fenn,  bluntly,  "  is  that  your 
knife  sticking  in  him?  I  mean,  is  it  one  belonging 
to  Fraschini's  service?  Don't  touch  it,  but  look  at 
it,  you  can  tell." 

Luigi  leaned  over  the  dead  man.  "  Yes,  it  is  one 
of  our  boning  knives,"  he  said.  "  We  always  bring 
our  own  hardware." 

"  Well,  then,  if  you  want  to  clear  yourself  and 
your  men  of  doubt,  tell  all  you  know." 

''  I  know  this,"  and  Luigi  braced  himself  to  the 
ordeal.  "  I  was  waiting  in  the  pantry  for  Miss  Van 
Allen  to  send  me  word  to  serve  supper,  and  I  peeped 
in  the  dining-room  now  and  then  to  see  if  it  was 
time.  I  heard,  presently,  Miss  Van  Allen's  voice, 
also  a  man's  voice.  I  didn't  want  to  intrude,  so 
waited  for  a  summons.  After  a  moment  or  two  I 
heard  a  little  scream,  and  heard  somebody  or  some 
thing  fall.  I  had  no  thought  of  anything  wrong,  but 
thought  the  guests  were  unusually — er — riotous." 

"  Are  Miss  Van  Allen's  guests  inclined  to  be 
riotous?  " 


46  VICKY  VAN 

"  No,  sir,  oh,  no,"  asseverated  the  man,  while 
Mrs.  Reeves  and  Ariadne  looked  indignant.  "  And 
for  that  reason,  I  felt  a  little  curious,  so  I  pushed 
the  door  ajar  and  peeped  in." 

"What  did  you  see?" 

"  I  saw,"  Luigi  paused  so  long  that  I  feared 
he  was  going  to  collapse.  But  the  coroner  eyed  him 
sternly,  and  he  went  on.  "  I  saw  Miss  Van  Allen 
standing,  looking  down  at  this — this  gentleman  on 
the  floor,  and  making  as  if  to  pull  out  the  knife.  I 
could  scarcely  believe  my  eyes,  and  I  watched  her. 
She  didn't  pull  the  knife,  but  she  straightened  up, 
looked  around,  glanced  down  at  her  gown,  which — 
which  was  stained  with  blood — and  then — she  ran 
out  into  the  hall." 

"Where  did  she  go?" 

"  I  don't  know.  I  couldn't  see,  as  the  door  was 
but  on  a  crack.  Then  I  thought  I  ought  to  go  into 
the  dining-room,  and  I  did.  I  looked  at  the  gentle 
man,  and  I  didn't  know  what  to  do.  So  I  went  into 
the  hall,  to  the  parlor  door,  and  called  for  help,  for 
a  doctor  or  somebody.  And  then  they  all  came  out 
here.  That's  all  I  know." 

Luigi 's  nerve  gave  way,  and  he  sank  into  a 
chair  with  a  sob.  Fenn  looked  at  him,  and  con 
siderately  left  him  alone  for  the  time. 

"  Can  this  be  true  ?  "  he  said,  turning  to  us.  "  Can 
you  suspect  Miss  Van  Allen  of  this  crime?  " 


THE  WAITER'S  STORY  47 

"  No !  "  cried  Bert  Garrison  and  the  women,  at 
once.  And,  "  No!  "  said  I.  "  I  am  positive  Miss 
Van  Allen  did  not  know  Mr.  Somers  and  could  not 
have  killed  an  utter  stranger — on  no  provocation 
whatever." 

"  You  do  not  know  what  provocation  she  may 
have  had,"  suggested  Fenn. 

"  Now,  look  here,  Mr.  Coroner,"  said  Mrs. 
Reeves  very  decidedly,  "  I  won't  have  Miss  Van 
Allen  spoken  of  in  any  such  way.  I  assume  you 
mean  that  this  man,  though  a  stranger,  might  have 
said  or  done  something  to  annoy  or  offend  Miss 
Van  Allen.  Well,  if  he  had  done  so,  Victoria  Van 
Allen  never  would  have  killed  him !  She  is  the 
gentlest,  most  gay  and  light-hearted  girl,  and  though 
she  never  tolerates  any  rudeness  or  familiarity,  the 
idea  of  her  killing  a  man  is  too  absurd.  You  might 
as  well  suspect  a  dove  or  a  butterfly  of  crime !  " 

"  That's  right,  Mr.  Coroner,"  said  Garrison. 
"  That  waiter's  story  is  an  hallucination  of  some 
sort — if  it  isn't  a  deliberate  falsification.  Miss  Van 
Allen  is  a  dainty,  happy  creature,  and  to  connect 
her  with  anything  like  this  is  absurd !  " 

"  That's  to  be  found  out,  Mr.  Garrison.  "  Why 
did  Miss  Van  Allen  run  away?  " 

"  I  don't  admit  that  she  did  run  away — in  the 
sense  of  flight.  If  she  were  frightened  at  this  thing 


48  VICKY  VAN 

— if  she  saw  it — she  may  have  run  out  of  the  door 
in  hysterics  or  in  a  panic  of  terror.  But  she  the 
perpetrator!  Never!" 

"Never!"  echoed  Mrs.  Reeves.  "The  poor 
child !  If  she  did  come  out  here — and  saw  this  awful 
sight — why,  I  think  it  would  unhinge  her  mind !  " 

"  Who  is  Miss  Van  Allen  ?  "  asked  Fenn.  "  What 
is  her  occupation  ?  " 

"  She  hasn't  an  occupation,"  said  Mrs.  Reeves. 
"  She  is  a  young  lady  of  independent  fortune.  As 
to  her  people  or  immediate  relatives,  I  know  noth 
ing  at  all.  I've  known  her  a  year  or  so,  and  as  she 
never  referred  to  such  matters  I  never  inquired. 
But  she's  a  thorough  little  gentlewoman,  and  I'll 
defend  her  against  any  slander  to  my  utmost 
powers." 

"  And  so  will  I,"  said  Miss  Gale.  "  I'm  sure 
of  her  fineness  of  character,  and  lovely  nature " 

"  But  these  opinions,  ladies,  don't  help  our  in 
quiries,"  interrupted  Fenn.  "  What  can  you  men 
tell  us?  What  I  want  first,  is  to  identify  this  body, 
or,  rather  to  learn  more  of  R.  Somers,  and  to  find 
Miss  Van  Allen.  I  can't  hold  an  inquest  until  these 
points  are  cleared  up.  Mason,  have  you  found  out 
anything?  " 

"  No,"  said  the  inspector,  returning  from  his 
long  telephone  quest.  "  I  called  up  four  clubs. 


THE  WAITER'S  STORY  49 

Norman  Steele  belongs  to  three  of  them,  but  this 
man  doesn't  seem  to  belong  to  any.  That  is,  there 
are  Somerses  and  even  R.  Somerses,  but  they  all 
have  middle  names,  and,  too,  their  description 
doesn't  fit  this  Somers." 

"  Then  Mr.  Steele  misrepresented  him.  Did  you 
get  Steele,  Mason  ?  " 

"  No,  he  wasn't  at  any  of  the  clubs.  I  found 
his  residence,  a  bachelor  apartment  house,  but  he 
isn't  there,  either." 

"Find  Steele;  find  Miss  Van  Allen;  find  the 
maid,  what's  her  name — Julia?  " 

"  Julie,  she  was  always  called,"  said  Mrs.  Reeves. 
"  If  Miss  Van  Allen  went  away,  I've  no  doubt  Julie 
went  with  her.  She  is  a  most  devoted  caretaker  of 
her  mistress." 

"  An  oldish  woman  ?  " 

"  No.     Perhaps  between  thirty-five  and  forty." 

"What's  she  look  like?" 

"  Describe  her,  Ariadne,  you're  an  artist." 

"  Julie,"  said  Miss  Gale,  "  is  a  good  sort.  She's 
medium-sized,  she  has  brown  hair  and  rather  hazel 
eyes.  She  wears  glasses,  and  she  stoops  a  little  in 
her  walk.  She  has  perfect  training  and  correct 
manners,  and  she  is  a  model  servant,  but  she  gives 
the  impression  of  watching  over  Miss  Van  Allen, 

4 


50  VICKY  VAN 

whatever  else  she  may  be  engaged  in  at  the  same 
time." 

"Wears  black?" 

"  No;  usually  gray  gowns,  or  sometimes  white. 
Inconspicuous  aprons  and  no  cap.  She's  not  quite 
a  menial,  but  yet,  not  entirely  a  housekeeper." 

"English?" 

"  English  speaking,  if  that's  what  you  mean. 
But  I  think  she's  an  American.  Don't  you,  Mrs. 
Reeves?" 

"  American?    Yes,  of  course." 


CHAPTER  IV 

SOMERS'  REAL  NAME 

DETECTIVE  LOWNEY,  who  had  come  with  the 
coroner,  had  said  little  but  had  listened  to  all.  Occa 
sionally  he  would  dart  from  the  room,  and  return 
a  few  moments  later,  scribbling  in  his  notebook. 
He  was  an  alert  little  man,  with  beady  black  eyes 
and  a  stubby  black  mustache. 

"  I  want  a  few  words  with  that  caterer's  man," 
he  said,  suddenly,  "  and  then  they'd  better  clear  away 
this  supper  business  and  go  home." 

We  all  turned  to  look  at  the  table.  It  stood  in 
the  end  of  the  dining-room  that  was  back  of  the 
living-room.  The  sideboard  was  at  the  opposite  end, 
back  of  the  hall,  and  it  was  directly  in  front  of 
the  sideboard  that  Somers'  body  lay. 

Lowney  turned  on  more  light,  and  a  thrill  went 
through  us  at  the  incongruity  of  that  gay  table  and 
the  tragedy  so  near  it.  As  always  at  Vicky  Van's 
parties,  the  appointments  were  dainty  and  elaborate. 
Flowers  decorated  the  table;  lace,  silver,  and  glass 
were  of  finest  quality;  and  in  the  centre  was  the 
contrivance  known  as  a  "  Jack  Horner  Pie." 

"  That  was  to  be  the  surprise,"  said  Mrs.  Reeves. 

51 


52  VICKY  VAN 

"  I  knew  about  it.  The  pie  is  full  of  lovely  trinkets 
and  little  jokes  on  the  guests." 

"  I  thought  those  things  were  for  children's 
parties,"  observed  Fenn,  looking  with  interest  at  the 
gorgeous  confection. 

"  They're  really  for  birthdays,"  said  Mrs. 
Reeves,  "  and  to-day  is  Vicky's  birthday.  That  was 
part  of  her  surprise.  She  didn't  want  it  known, 
lest  the  guests  should  bring  gifts.  She's  like  a  child, 
Vicky  is,  just  as  happy  over  a  birthday  party  as  a 
little  girl  would  be." 

"  What  does  Miss  Van  Allen  look  like  ?  "  asked 
the  detective. 

"  She's  pretty,"  replied  Mrs.  Reeves,  "  awfully 
pretty,  but  not  a  raving  beauty.  Black  hair,  and 
bright,  fresh  coloring " 

"  How  was  she  dressed?    Giddy  clothes?  " 

"  In  an  evening  gown,"  returned  Mrs.  Reeves, 
who  resented  the  detective's  off-hand  manner.  "  A 
beautiful  French  gown,  of  tulle  and  gold  trimmings." 

"  Low-necked,  and  all  that  ?    Jewels  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  as  Mrs.  Reeves  disdained  to 
answer.  "  Full  evening  costume,  and  a  necklace 
and  earrings  of  amber  set  in  gold." 

"  Well,  what  I'm  getting  at  is,"  said  Lowney,  "  a 
woman  dressed  like  that  couldn't  go  very  far  in  the 
streets  without  being  noticed.  We'll  surely  be  able 


SOMERS'  REAL  NAME  53 

to  trace  Miss  Van  Allen.  Where  would  she  be 
likely  to  go?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Mrs.  Reeves.  "She 
wouldn't  go  to  my  home,  I  live  'way  down  in  Wash 
ington  Square." 

"  Nor  to  mine,"  chirped  Ariadne,  "  it's  over  on 
the  west  side." 

"  I  don't  believe  she  left  the  house,"  declared 
the  coroner. 

"  Tell  us  again,  Luigi,"  asked  Lowney,  "  just 
where  did  the  lady  seem  to  go,  when  you  saw  her 
leave  this  room?  " 

"  I  can't  say,  sir.  I  was  looking  through  a  small 
opening,  as  I  pushed  the  door  ajar,  and  I  was  so 
amazed  at  what  I  saw,  that  I  was  sort  of  paralyzed 
and  didn't  dare  open  the  door  further." 

"  Go  back  to  the  pantry,"  commanded  Fenn,  and 
look  in,  just  as  you  did." 

The  waiter  retreated  to  the  post  he  had  held, 
and  setting  the  door  a  few  inches  ajar,  proved  that 
he  could  see  body  by  the  sideboard,  but  could  not 
command  a  view  of  the  hall. 

"  Now,  I'll  represent  Miss  Van  Allen,"  and 
Lowney  stood  over  the  body  of  Somers.  "  Is  this 
the  place?  " 

"  A  little  farther  to  the  right,  sir,"  and  Luigi's 
earnestness  and  good  faith  were  unmistakable. 
"  Yes,  sir,  just  there." 


54  VICKY  VAN 

"  Now,  I  walk  out  into  the  hall.  Is  this  the  way 
she  went?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  the  same." 

Lowney  went  from  the  dining-room  to  the  hall, 
and  it  was  clear  that  his  further  progress  could  not 
be  seen  by  the  peeping  waiter. 

"  You  see,  Fenn,"  the  detective  went  on,  "  from 
here,  in  the  back  of  this  long  hall,  Miss  Van  Allen 
could  have  left  the  house  by  two  ways.  She  could 
have  gone  out  at  the  front  door,  passing  the  parlor, 
or,  she  could  have  gone  down  these  basement  stairs, 
which  are  just  under  the  stairs  to  the  second  story. 
Then  she  could  have  gone  out  by  the  front  area 
door,  which  would  give  her  access  to  the  street.  She 
could  have  caught  up  a  cloak  as  she  went." 

"  Or,"  said  Fenn,  musingly,  "  she  could  have  run 
upstairs.  The  staircase  is  so  far  back  in  the  hall,  that 
the  guests  in  the  parlor  would  not  have  seen  her. 
This  is  a  very  deep  house,  you  see." 

It  was  true.  The  stairs  began  so  far  back  in  the 
long  hall,  that  Vicky  could  easily  have  slipped  up 
stairs  after  leaving  the  dining-room,  without  being 
seen  by  any  of  us  in  the  living-room,  unless  we  were 
in  its  doorway,  looking  out.  Was  anybody?  So 
many  guests  had  left,  that  this  point  could  not  be 
revealed. 

"  I  didn't  see  her,"  declared  Mrs.  Reeves,  "  and 


SOMERS'  REAL  NAME  55 

I  don't  believe  she  was  in  the  dining-room  at  all.  I 
don't  care  what  that  waiter  says !  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  Madame,"  reiterated  Luigi.  "  It  was 
Miss  Van  Allen.  I  know  her  well.  Often  she  comes 
to  Fraschini's,  and  always  I  take  her  orders.  She 
came  even  this  afternoon,  to  make  sure  the  great 
cake — the  Jack  Horner,  was  all  right.  And  she 
approved  it,  ah,  she  clapped  her  hands  at  sight  of  it. 
We  all  do  our  best  for  Miss  Van  Allen,  she  is  a 
lovely  lady." 

"  Miss  Van  Allen  is  one  of  your  regular 
customers?  " 

"One  oi  our  best.  Very  often  we  serve  her, 
and  always  she  orders  our  finest  wares." 

"  You  provide  everything?  " 

"  Everything.  Candles,  flowers,  decorations — 
all." 

"  And  she  pays  her  bills?  " 

"  Most  promptly." 

"By  cheque?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  And  there  are  no  servants  here  but  the  maid 
Julie?" 

"  I  have  often  seen  others.  But  I  fancy  they  do 
not  live  in  the  house.  Madame  Julie  superintends 
and  directs  us  always.  Miss  Van  Allen  leaves  much 
to  her.  She  is  most  capable," 


56  VICKY  VAN 

"  When  did  you  see  this  woman,  this  Julie,  last  ?  " 

"  A  short  time  before — before  that  happened." 
Luigi  looked  toward  the  body.  "  She  was  in  and 
out  of  the  pantries  all  the  evening.  She  admitted  the 
guests,  she  acted  as  ladies'  maid,  and  she  arranged 
the  favors  in  the  pie.  It  was,  I  should  say,  ten 
minutes  or  so  since  she  was  last  in  the  pantry,  when 
I  peeped  in  at  the  door." 

"  Where  was  Julie  then?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  I  did  not  see  her.  Perhaps 
upstairs,  or  maybe  in  the  front  of  the  hall,  waiting  to 
bring  me  word  to  serve  supper." 

"  Tell  me  something  distinctive  about  this  maid's 
appearance.  Was  she  good-looking?  " 

"  Yes,  a  good-looking  woman.  But  nothing  es 
pecial  about  her.  She  had  many  gold  fillings  in  her 
teeth " 

"  That's  something,"  and  Lowney  noted  it  with 
satisfaction.  "  Go  on." 

But  Luigi  seemed  to  know  nothing  else  that  dif 
ferentiated  Julie  from  her  sisters  in  service,  and 
Lowney  changed  his  questions. 

"  How  could  Miss  Van  Allen  get  that  knife  of 
yours?"  he  asked. 

"  I  don't  know,  sir.  It  was,  I  suppose,  in  the 
pantry,  with  our  other  knives." 

"What  is  its  use?" 


SOMERS'  REAL  NAME  57 

"It  is  a  boning  knife,  but  doubtless  one  of  our 
men  used  it  in  cutting  celery  for  salad,  or  some  such 
purpose." 

"  Ask  them." 

Inquiry  showed  that  a  man,  named  Palma,  had 
used  the  knife  for  making  a  salad,  and  had  left  it 
in  the  butler's  pantry  an  hour  or  so  before  the  crime 
was  committed.  Any  one  could  have  taken  the 
knife  without  its  being  missed,  as  the  salad  had  been 
completed  and  put  aside. 

"  In  that  case,  Miss  Van  Allen  must  have  secured 
the  knife  some  little  time  before  it  was  used,  as 
Luigi  was  in  the  pantry  just  previously,"  observed 
Fenn.  "  That  shows  premeditation.  It  wasn't  done 
with  a  weapon  picked  up  at  the  moment." 

"  Then  it  couldn't  have  been  done  by  Miss  Van 
Allen!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Reeves  triumphantly,  "  for 
Vicky  had  no  reason  to  premeditate  killing  a  man 
she  had  never  seen  before." 

"  Vicky  didn't  do  it,"  wailed  Ariadne.  "  I  know 
she  didn't." 

"  She  must  be  found,"  said  Lowney.  "  But  she 
will  be  found.  If  she's  innocent,  she  will  return 
herself.  If  guilty,  we  must  find  her.  And  we  will. 
A  householder  cannot  drop  out  of  existence  un 
noticed  by  any  one.  Does  she  own  this  house?  " 

"  I  think  so,"  said  Mrs.  Reeves.    "  I'm  not  posi- 


58  VICKY  VAN 

tive,  but  it's  my  impression  that  she  does.  Vicky 
Van  never  boasts  or  talks  of  her  money  or  of  her 
self.  But  I  know  she  gives  a  good  deal  in  charity, 
and  is  always  ready  to  subscribe  to  philanthropic 
causes.  I  tell  you  she  is  not  the  criminal,  and  I 
don't  believe  she  ever  left  this  house  in  the  middle 
of  the  night  in  evening  dress!  That  child  is  scared 
to  death,  and  is  hiding — in  the  attic  or  somewhere." 

"  Suppose,  Mrs.  Reeves,"  said  the  coroner, 
"  you  go  with  Mr.  Lowney,  and  look  over  the  house 
again.  Search  the  bedrooms  and  store-rooms." 

"  I  will,"  and  Mrs.  Reeves  seemed  to  welcome 
an  opportunity  to  help.  She  was  a  good-hearted 
woman,  and  a  staunch  friend  of  Vicky  Van.  I  was 
glad  she  was  on  hand  to  stand  up  for  the  girl,  for  I 
confess  things  looked,  to  me,  pretty  dubious. 

"  Come  along,  too,  Mr.  Calhoun,"  said  Mrs. 
Reeves.  "  There's  no  telling  what  we  may  find. 
Perhaps  there's  further — tragedy." 

I  knew  what  was  in  her  mind.  That  if  Vicky 
had  done  the  thing,  she  might  have,  in  an  agony  of 
remorse,  taken  her  own  life. 

Thrilled  with  this  new  fear,  I  followed  Lowney 
and  Mrs.  Reeves.  We  went  downstairs  first.  We 
examined  all  the  basement  rooms  and  the  small, 
city  back  yard.  There  was  no  sign  of  Vicky  Van 
or  of  Julie,  and  next  we  came  back  to  the  first  floor, 
hunted  that,  and  then  on  upstairs.  The  music  room 


SOMERS'  REAL  NAME  59 

was  soon  searched,  and  I  fell  back  as  the  others 
went  into  Vicky's  bedroom. 

"  Come  on,  Mr.  Calhoun,"  said  Lowney,  "  we 
must  make  a  thorough  job  of  it  this  time." 

The  bedroom  was,  it  seemed  to  me,  like  a  fairy 
dream.  Furniture  of  white  enameled  wicker,  with 
pink  satin  cushions.  Everywhere  the  most  exquisite 
appointments  of  silver,  crystal  and  embroidered 
fabrics,  and  a  bed  fit  for  a  princess.  It  seemed 
profanation  for  the  little  detective  to  poke  and  pry 
around  in  wrardrobes  and  cupboards,  though  I  knew 
it  must  be  done.  He  was  not  only  looking  for 
Vicky,  but  noting  anything  that  might  bear  on  her 
disappearance. 

But  there  was  no  clue.  Everything  was  in  order, 
and  all  just  as  a  well-bred,  refined  woman  would 
have  her  belongings. 

The  bedroom  was  over  the  dining-room,  and 
back  of  this,  over  the  pantry  extension,  was  Vicky 
Van's  dressing-room. 

This  was  a  bijou  boudoir,  and  dressing-table, 
chiffonier,  robe-chests,  and  jewel-caskets  were  all  in 
keeping  with  the  personality  of  their  owner.  The 
walls  were  panelled  in  pale  rose  color,  and  a  few 
fine  pictures  were  in  absolute  harmony.  A  long 
mirror  was  in  a  Florentine  gilt  frame,  and  a  chaise 
longue,  by  a  reading  table,  bespoke  hours  of  ease. 

Ruthlessly,  Lowney  pried  into  everything,  ran 


60  VICKY  VAN 

his  arm  among  the  gowns  hanging  in  the  wardrobe, 
and  looked  into  the  carved  chests. 

Again  no  clue.  The  perfect  order  everywhere, 
showed,  perhaps,  preparation  for  guests,  but  noth 
ing  indicated  flight  or  hiding.  The  dressing-table 
boxes  held  some  bits  of  jewelry  but  nothing  of  really 
great  value.  An  escritoire  was  full  of  letters  and 
papers,  and  this,  Lowney  locked,  and  put  the  key  in 
his  pocket. 

"If  it's  all  right,"  he  said,  "  there's  no  harm  done. 
And  if  the  lady  doesn't  show  up,  we  must  examine 
the  stuff." 

On  we  went  to  the  third  floor  of  the  house.  The 
rooms  here  were  unused,  save  one  that  was  evi 
dently  Julie's.  The  furnishings,  though  simple,  were 
attractive,  and  showed  a  thoughtful  mistress  and  an 
appreciative  maid.  Everything  was  in  order.  Sev 
eral  uniforms  of  black  and  of  gray  were  in  the 
cupboard,  and  several  white  aprons  and  one  white 
dress.  There  were  books,  and  a  work-basket  and 
such  things  as  betokened  the  life  of  a  sedate,  busy 
woman. 

We  left  no  room,  no  cupboard  unopened.  No 
hall  or  loft  unsearched.  We  looked  in,  under  and 
behind  every  piece  of  furniture,  and  came,  at  last, 
to  the  unescapable  conclusion  that  wherever  Vicky 
Van  might  be,  she  was  not  in  her  own  house. 

Downstairs  we  went,  and  found  Coroner  Fenn 


SOMERS'  REAL  NAME  61 

and  Inspector  Mason  in  the  hall.  They  had  let  Doc 
tor  Remson  go  home,  also  Garrison  and  Miss  Gale. 
The  waiters,  too,  had  been  sent  off. 

"  You  people  can  go,  if  you  like,"  Fenn  said,  to 
Mrs.  Reeves  and  myself.  "  I'll  take  your  addresses, 
and  you  can  expect  to  be  called  on  as  witnesses. 
If  we  ever  get  anything  to  witness!  I  never  saw 
such  a  case!  No  criminal  to  arrest,  and  nobody 
knows  the  victim!  He  must  be  from  out  of  town. 
We'll  nail  Mr.  Steele  to-morrow,  and  begin  to  get 
somewhere.  Also  we'll  look  up  Miss  Van  Allen's 
credits  and  business  acquaintances.  A  woman  can't 
have  lived  two  years  in  a  house  like  this,  and  not 
have  somebody  know  her  antecedents  and  relatives. 
I  suppose  Mr.  Steele  brought  his  friend  here,  and 
then,  when  this  thing  happened  he  was  scared  and 
lit  out." 

"  Maybe  Steele  did  the  killing,"  suggested 
Lowney. 

"  No,"  disagreed  Fenn.  "  I  believe  that  Dago 
waiter's  yarn.  I  cross-questioned  him  a  lot  before 
I  let  him  go,  and  I'm  sure  he's  telling  what  he  saw. 
I'll  see  Fraschini's  head  man  to-morrow — or,  I  sup 
pose  it's  to-morrow  now — hello,  who's  that  ?  " 

Another  policeman  came  in  at  the  street  door. 

"  What's  up?  "  he  said,  looking  about  in  amaze 
ment.  "  You  here,  Mr.  Fenn?  Lowney?  What's 
doing?" 


62  VICKY  VAN 

It  was  Patrolman  Ferrall,  the  officer  on  the  beat. 

"  Where  you  been  ?  "  asked  the  coroner.  "  Bon't 
you  know  what  has  happened  ?  " 

"  No ;  ever  since  midnight  I  been  handling  a 
crowd  at  a  fire  a  couple  blocks  away.  This  is  Miss 
Van  Allen's  house." 

"  Sure  it  is,  and  a  friend  of  hers  named  Somers 
has  been  bumped  off." 

"What?    Killed?" 

"  That's  it.  What  do  you  know  of  Miss  Van 
Allen?" 

"  Nothing,  except  that  she  lives  here.  Quiet 
young  lady.  Nothin'  to  be  said  about  her.  Who's 
the  man  ?  " 

"  Don't  know,  except  named  Somers.  R. 
Somers." 

"  Never  heard  of  him.  Where's  Miss  Van 
Allen?" 

"  Skipped." 

"  What !  That  little  thoroughbred  can't  be 
mixed  up  in  a  shootin' !  " 

"  He  isn't  shot.  Stabbed.  With  a  kitchen 
knife." 

"  Let's  see  him." 

The  coroner  and  Ferrall  went  toward  the  dining 
room,  and,  on  an  irresistible  impulse  of  curiosity,  I 
followed. 


SOMERS'  REAL  NAME  63 

"  Him !  "  exclaimed  Ferrall,  as  he  caught  sight 
of  the  dead  man's  features.  "  That  ain't  no  Somers. 
That's  Randolph  Schuyler." 

"What!" 

"  Sure  it  is.  Schuyler,  the  millionaire.  Lives 
on  Fifth  Avenue,  not  far  down  from  here.  Who 
killed  him?" 

"  But  look  here.  Are  you  sure  this  is  Randolph 
Schuyler?" 

"  Sure?  Of  course  I'm  sure.  His  house  is  on 
my  beat.  I  see  him  often,  goin'  in  or  comin'  out." 

"  Well,  then  we  have  got  a  big  case  on  our 
hands !  Mason !  " 

The  inspector  could  scarcely  believe  Ferrall's 
statement,  but  realized  that  the  policeman  must 
know. 

"Whew!"  he  said,  trying  to  think  of  a  dozen 
things  at  once.  "  Then  Steele  knew  him,  and  in 
troduced  him  as  Somers  on  purpose.  No  wonder 
the  clubs  didn't  know  of  R.  Somers !  R.  S.  on  his 
handkerchiefs  and  all  that.  He  used  a  false  name 
'cause  he  didn't  want  it  known  that  Randolph 
Schuyler  came  to  see  Miss  Van  Allen !  Oh,  here's  a 
mess!  Where's  that  girl?  Why  did  she  kill  him?  " 

"  She  didn't !  "  Mrs.  Reeves  began  to  cry. 
"  She  didn't  know  it  was  Mr.  Schuyler.  She  doesn't 
know  Mr.  Schuyler.  I'm  sure  she  doesn't,  because 


64  VICKY  VAN 

we  were  making  lists  for  bazar  patrons  and  she 
said  she  would  ask  only  people  she  knew,  and  we 
tried  to  find  somebody  who  knew  Randolph  Schuy- 
ler,  to  ask  him,  but  we  didn't  know  anybody  who 
was  acquainted  with  him  at  all.  Oh,  it  can't  be  the 
rich  Schuyler!  Why  would  he  come  here?" 

"  We  must  get  hold  of  Mr.  Steele  as  soon  as 
possible,"  said  Fenn,  excitedly.  "  Breen,  call  up  his 
home  address  again,  and  if  he  isn't  there,  go  there 
and  stick  tifl  he  comes.  Now,  for  some  one  to 
identify  this  body.  Call  up  the  Schuyler  house — no, 
better  go  around  there.  Where  is  it,  Ferrall  ?  " 

"  Go  straight  out  to  the  Avenue,  and  turn  down. 
It's  No.  —  only  part  of  a  block  down.  Who's 
going?  " 

"  You  go,  Lowney,"  said  Fenn.  "  Mason,  will 
you  go?  " 

"  Yes,  of  course.    Come  on,  Lowney." 

The  coroner  gave  Mrs.  Reeves  and  myself  per 
mission  to  go  home,  and  I  was  glad  to  go.  But 
Mrs.  Reeves  declared  her  intention  of  staying  the 
night,  what  was  left  of  it,  in  Miss  Van  Allen's 
house. 

"  It's  too  late  for  me  to  go  down  alone,"  she 
said,  in  her  sensible  way.  "  And,  too,  I'd  rather  be 
here,  in  case — in  case  Miss  Van  Allen  comes  home. 
I'm  her  friend,  and  I  know  she'd  like  me  to  stay." 


CHAPTER  V 

THE   SCHUYLER   HOUSEHOLD 

As  for  me,  I  began  to  collect  my  senses  after  the 
shock  of  learning  the  true  identity  of  the  dead  man. 
Though  I  had  never  met  him,  Randolph  Schuyler 
was  a  client  and  friend  of  my  partner,  Charles  Brad 
bury,  and  I  suddenly  felt  a  sort  of  personal  responsi 
bility  of  action. 

For  one  thing,  I  disliked  the  idea  of  Mr.  Schuy- 
ler's  wife  and  family  receiving  the  first  tidings  of 
the  tragedy  from  the  police.  It  seemed  to  me  a 
friend  ought  to  break  the  news,  if  possible. 

I  said  as  much  to  Coroner  Fenn,  and  he  agreed. 

"  That's  so,"  he  said.  "  It'll  be  an  awful  errand. 
In  the  middle  of  the  night,  too.  If  you're  acquainted, 
suppose  you  go  there  with  the  boys,  Mr.  Calhoun." 

"  I'm  not  personally  acquainted,  but  Mr.  Schuy 
ler  is  my  partner's  client,  though  there's  been  little 
business  of  his  with  our  firm  of  late.  But,  as  a 
matter  of  humanity,  I'll  go,  if  you  say  so,  and  be  of 
any  help  I  can." 

"  Go,  by  all  means.  Probably  they'll  be  glad  of 
your  advice  and  assistance  in  many  ways." 

I  dreaded  the  errand,  yet  I  thought  if  the  police 

5  65 


66  VICKY  VAN 

had  had  to  go  and  tell  Winnie  and  Aunt  Lucy  any 
such  awful  news,  how  glad  they'd  be  to  have  some 
body  present  of  their  own  world,  even  of  their  own 
neighborhood.  So  I  went. 

As  we  had  been  told,  the  Schuyler  house  was 
only  a  few  doors  below  the  Avenue  corner.  Even 
as  Mason  rang  the  bell,  I  was  thinking  how  strange 
that  a  man  should  go  to  a  house  where  he  desired  to 
conceal  his  own  name,  when  it  was  so  near  his  own 
dwelling. 

And  yet,  I  knew,  too,  that  the  houses  on  Fifth 
Avenue  are  as  far  removed  from  houses  just  off 
the  Avenue,  as  if  they  were  in  a  different  town. 

Mason's  ring  was  answered  by  a  keen-eyed  man 
of  imperturbable  countenance. 

"  What's  wanted?  "  he  said,  gazing  calmly  at  the 
policemen. 

"  Where  is  Mr.  Schuyler?  "  asked  the  inspector, 
in  a  matter-of-fact  way. 

"  He's  out,"  said  the  man,  respectfully  enough, 
but  of  no  mind  to  be  loquacious. 

"Where?" 

"  I  don't  know.  He  went  to  his  club  after  dinner, 
and  has  not  yet  returned." 

"  Are  you  his  valet  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  wait  up  for  him.  He  comes  in  with  his 
key.  I've  no  idea  when  he  will  return." 

"  Is  his  wife  at  home?  " 


THE  SCHUYLER  HOUSEHOLD  67 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Schuyler  is  at  home."  Clearly,  this 
man  was  answering  questions  only  because  he  recog 
nized  the  authority  that  asked  them.  But  he  volun 
teered  no  information. 

"  Who  else  is  in  the  family?    Children?" 

"  No,  Mr.  Schuyler  has  no  children.  His  two 
sisters  are  here,  and  Mrs.  Schuyler.  That  is  all." 

"They  are  all  in  bed?" 

"  Yes,  sir.  Has  anything  happened  to  Mr. 
Schuyler?" 

"  Yes,  there  has.    Mr.  Schuyler  is  dead." 

"  Dead !  "  The  imperturbable  calm  gave  way, 
and  the  valet  became  nervously  excited.  "  What  do 
you  mean?  Where  is  he?  Shall  I  go  to  him?  " 

"  We  will  come  in,"  said  Lowney,  for  until  now, 
we  had  stood  outside.  "  Then  we  will  tell  you.  Are 
any  of  the  other  servants  about?  " 

"  No,  sir,  they  are  all  in  bed." 

"  Then — what  is  your  name  ?  " 

"  Cooper,  sir." 

"  Then,  Cooper,  call  the  butler,  or  whoever  is  in 
general  charge.  And — summon  Mrs.  Schuyler." 

"  I'll  call  Jepson,  he's  the  butler,  sir.  And  I'll 
call  Mrs.  Schuyler's  maid,  Tibbetts,  if  she's  in. 
And  the  maid,  Hester,  who  waits  on  the  Misses 
Schuyler.  Shall  I?" 


68  VICKY  VAN 

"  Yes,  get  things  started.  Get  Jepson  as  soon  as 
you  can." 

"  This  is  an  awful  affair,"  said  Mason,  as  Cooper 
went  off.  We  were  in  the  hall,  a  great  apartment 
more  like  a  room,  save  that  a  broad  staircase  curved 
up  at  one  side.  The  furnishings  were  magnificent, 
but  in  a  taste  heavily  ornate  and  a  little  old-fashioned. 
There  were  carved  and  upholstered  benches,  but  none 
of  us  cared  to  sit.  The  tension  was  too  great. 

"  Keep  your  eyes  open,  Lowney,"  he  went  on. 
"  There's  lots  to  be  picked  up  from  servants,  be 
fore  they're  really  on  their  guard.  Get  all  you  can 
about  Mr.  Schuyler's  evening  habits  from  the  man, 
Cooper.  But  go  easy  with  the  ladies.  It's  hard 
enough  for  them  at  best." 

The  valet  reappeared  with  Jepson.  This  butler 
was  of  the  accepted  type,  portly  and  important,  but 
the  staggering  news  Cooper  had  evidently  told  him, 
had  made  him  a  man  among  men. 

"  What's  this?  "  he  said,  gravely.  "  The  master 
dead  ?  Apoplexy  ?  " 

"  No,  Jepson.  Mr.  Schuyler  was  killed  by  some 
one.  We  don't  know  who  did  it." 

"Killed!  Murdered!  My  God!"  The  butler 
spoke  in  a  strong,  low  voice  with  no  hint  of  dra 
matic  effect.  "  How  will  Mrs.  Schuyler  bear  it?  " 

"How  shall  we  tell  her,"  Jepson?"     Mason 


THE  SCHUYLER  HOUSEHOLD  69 

showed  a  consultant  air,  for  the  butler  was  so  evi 
dently  a  man  of  judgment  and  sense. 

"  We  must  waken  her  maid,  and  let  her  rouse 
Mrs.  Schuyler.  Then  the  other  ladies,  Mr.  Schuy- 
ler's  sisters,  we  must  call  them." 

"  Yes,  Jepson,  do  all  those  things,  as  quickly  as 
you  can." 

But  the  wait  seemed  interminable. 

At  last  the  butler  came  back,  and  asked  us  up  to 
the  library,  the  front  room  on  the  floor  above.  Here 
a  footman  was  lighting  a  fire  on  the  hearth,  for  the 
house  had  the  chill  of  the  small  hours. 

First  came  the  two  sisters.  These  ladies,  though 
not  elderly,  were  middle-aged,  and  perhaps,  a  few 
years  older  than  their  brother.  They  were  austere 
and  prim,  of  aristocratic  features  and  patrician  air. 

But  they  were  almost  hysterical  in  their  excite 
ment.  A  distressed  maid  hovered  behind  them  with 
sal  volatile.  The  ladies  were  fully  attired,  but  caps 
on  their  heads  and  woolly  wraps  flung  round  them 
bore  witness  to  hasty  dressing. 

"  What  is  it?  "  cried  Miss  Rhoda,  the  younger 
of  the  two.  "  What  has  happened  to  Randolph?  " 

I  introduced  myself  to  them.  I  told  them,  as 
gently  as  I  could,  the  bare  facts,  deeming  it  wise  to 
make  no  prevarication. 

So  raptly  did  they  listen  and  so  earnestly  did  I 


70  VICKY  VAN 

try  to  omit  horrible  details,  and  yet  tell  the  truth, 
that  I  did  not  hear  Mrs.  Schuyler  enter  the  room. 
But  she  did  come  in,  and  heard  also,  the  story  as  I 
told  it. 

"  Can  it  not  be,"  I  heard  a  soft  voice  behind  me 
say,  "  can  it  not  yet  be  there  is  some  mistake?  Who 
says  that  man  is  my  husband  ?  " 

I  turned  to  see  the  white  face  and  clenched  hands 
of  Randolph  Schuyler's  widow.  She  was  holding 
herself  together,  and  trying  to  get  a  gleam  of  hope 
from  uncertainty. 

If  I  had  felt  pity  and  sorrow  for  her  before  I 
saw  her,  it  was  doubly  poignant  now. 

Ruth  Schuyler  was  one  of  those  gentle,  appeal 
ing  women,  helplessly  feminine  in  emergency.  Her 
frightened,  grief -stricken  eyes  looked  out  of  a  small, 
pale  face,  and  her  bloodless  lips  quivered  as  she 
caught  them  between  her  teeth  in  an  effort  to  pre 
serve  her  self-control. 

"  I  am  Chester  Calhoun,"  I  said,  and  she  bowed 
in  acknowledgment.  "  I  am  junior  partner  in  the 
firm  of  Bradbury  and  Calhoun.  Mr.  Bradbury  is 
one  of  your  husband's  lawyers  and  also  a  friend,  so, 
as  circumstances  brought  it  about,  I  came  here,  with 
Inspector  Mason,  to  tell  you — to  tell  you " 

Mrs.  Schuyler  sank  into  a  seat.  Still  with  that 
air  of  determination  to  be  calm,  she  gripped  the 


THE  SCHUYLER  HOUSEHOLD  71 

chair  arms  and  said,  "  I  heard  you  tell  Miss  Schuy- 
ler  that  Randolph  has  been  killed.  I  ask  you,  may 
it  not  be  some  one  else?  Why  should  he  be  at  a 
house  where  people  called  him  by  a  name  not  his 
own  ?  " 

She  had  heard,  then,  all  I  had  told  the  older 
ladies.  For  Mrs.  Schuyler  was  not  old.  She  must 
be,  I  thought  at  once,  years  younger  than  her  hus 
band.  Perhaps  a  second  wife.  I  was  glad  she  had 
heard,  for  it  saved  repeating  the  awful  narrative. 

"  He  has  not  been  identified,  Mrs.  Schuyler,"  I 
said,  "  except  by  the  policeman  of  this  precinct,  who 
declares  he  knows  him  well. 

I  was  glad  to  give  her  this  tiny  loophole  of  pos 
sibility  of  mistaken  identity,  and  she  eagerly  grasped 
at  it. 

"  You  must  make  sure,"  she  said,  looking  at 
Inspector  Mason. 

"  I'm  afraid  there's  no  room  for  doubt,  ma'am, 
but  I'm  about  to  send  the  man,  the  valet,  over  to  see 
him.  Do  you  wish  any  one  else  to  go — from  the 
house?" 

Mrs.  Schuyler  shuddered.  "  Don't  ask  me  to 
go,"  she  said,  piteously.  "  For  I  can't  think  it  is 
really  Mr.  Schuyler — and  if  it  should  be " 

"  Oh,  no  ma'am,  you  needn't  go.     None  of  the 


72  VICKY  VAN 

family,  I  should  say."  Mason  looked  at  the  elder 
ladies. 

"  No,  no,"  cried  Miss  Sarah,  "  we  couldn't  think 
of  it!  But  let  Jepson  go.  He  is  a  most  reliable 
man." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Schuyler,  "  send  Cooper  and 
Jepson  both.  Oh,  go  quickly — I  cannot  bear  this 
suspense !  "  She  turned  to  me,  as  the  two  men  who 
had  been  hovering  in  the  doorway,  came  in  to  take 
Mason's  orders.  "  I  thank  you,  Mr.  Calhoun.  It 
was  truly  kind  of  you  to  come.  Tibbetts,  get  me  a 
wrap,  please." 

This  was  Mrs.  Schuyler's  own  maid,  who  went 
on  the  errand  at  once.  More  servants  had  gathered ; 
one  or  two  footmen,  a  silly  French  parlor-maid  or 
waitress,  and  from  downstairs  I  heard  the  hushed 
voices  of  others. 

Tibbetts  returned,  and  laid  a  fleecy  white  shawl 
about  her  mistress'  shoulders.  Mrs.  Schuyler  wore 
a  house  dress  of  dull  blue.  Her  hair  of  an  ash- 
blonde  hue,  was  coiled  on  top  of  her  head;  and  to 
my  surprise,  when  I  noticed  it,  she  wore  a  string 
of  large  pearls  round  her  throat,  and  on  her  hands 
were  two  rings,  each  set  with  an  enormous  pearl. 

I  must  have  been  awkward  enough  to  glance  at 
the  pearls,  for  Mrs.  Schuyler  remarked,  "  I  dressed 


THE  SCHUYLER  HOUSEHOLD  73 

so  hastily,  I  kept  on  my  pearls.  I  wear  them  at 
night  sometimes,  to  preserve  their  luster." 

Then  she  apparently  forgot  them,  for  without 
self -consciousness  she  turned  to  the  detective  and  be 
gan  asking  questions.  Nervously  she  inquired  con 
cerning  minutest  details,  and  I  surmised  that  side  by 
side  with  her  grief  at  the  tragedy  was  a  very  human 
and  feminine  dismay  at  the  thought  of  her  husband, 
stabbed  to  death  in  another  woman's  house ! 

"Who  is  Miss  Van  Allen?"  she  asked  over 
and  over  again,  unsatisfied  with  the  scant  informa 
tion  Lowney  could  give. 

"  And  she  lives  near  here  ?  Just  down  the  side 
street?  Who  is  she?" 

"  I  don't  think  she  is  anyone  you  ever  heard  of," 
I  said  to  her.  "  She  is  a  pleasant  young  woman, 
and  so  far  as  I  know,  all  that  is  correct  and  proper." 

"  Then  why  would  she  have  Randolph  Schuyler 
visiting  her?  "  flashed  the  retort.  "  Is  that  correct 
and  proper?" 

"  It  may  be  so,"  I  said,  for  I  felt  a  sort  of 
loyalty  to  Vicky  Van.  "  You  see,  she  was  not 
acquainted  with  Mr.  Schuyler  until  this  evening." 

"  Why  did  he  go  there,  then?  " 

"  Steele  brought  him — Norman  Steele." 

"  I  don't  know  any  Mr.  Steele." 

I  began  to  think  that  Randolph  Schuyler  had 


74  VICKY  VAN 

possessed  many  acquaintances  of  whom  his  wife 
knew  nothing,  and  I  concluded  to  see  Bradbury  be 
fore  I  revealed  any  more  of  Schuyler's  affairs. 

And  then,  Lowney  began  adroitly  to  put  ques 
tions  instead  of  answering  them. 

He  inquired  concerning  Mr.  Schuyler's  habits  and 
pursuits,  his  recreations  and  his  social  life. 

All  three  of  the  women  gave  responses  to  these 
queries,  and  I  learned  many  things. 

First,  that  Randolph  Schuyler  was  one  manner 
of  man  at  home  and  another  abroad.  The  house 
hold,  it  was  plain  to  be  seen,  was  one  of  most  con 
servative  customs  and  rigidly  straightbacked  in  its 
conventions. 

Mrs.  Schuyler  was  not  a  second  wife.  She  had 
been  married  about  seven  years,  and  had  lived  the 
last  five  of  them  in  the  house  we  were  now  in. 
She  was  much  younger  than  her  husband,  and  he 
had,  I  could  see,  kept  her  from  all  knowledge  of  or 
participation  in  his  Bohemian  tastes.  They  were  the 
sort  of  people  who  have  a  box  at  the  opera  and  are 
patrons  of  the  best  and  most  exclusive  functions  of 
the  highest  society.  Mrs.  Schuyler,  after  the  first 
shock,  recovered  her  poise,  and  though  now  and  then 
a  tremor  shook  her  slight  frame,  she  bore  herself 
with  dignity  and  calm. 


THE  SCHUYLER  HOUSEHOLD  75 

The  two  maiden  ladies  also  grew  quieter,  but  we 
all  nervously  awaited  the  return  of  the  butler. 

At  last  he  came. 

"  It's  the  master,  Madame,"  he  said,  simply,  to 
his  mistress  as  he  entered  the  room.  "  He  is  dead." 

The  deferential  gravity  of  his  tone  impressed  me 
anew  with  the  man's  worth,  and  I  felt  that  the 
stricken  wife  had  a  tower  of  strength  in  the  faithful 
servitor. 

"  I  left  Cooper  there,  Madame,"  he  went  on. 
"  They — they  will  not  bring  Mr.  Schuyler  home  to 
night.  In  the  morning,  perhaps.  And  now,  Madame, 
will  you  not  go  to  rest  ?  I  will  be  at  the  service  of 
these  gentlemen." 

It  seemed  cruel  to  torture  them  further  that 
night,  and  the  three  ladies  were  dismissed  by 
Lowney,  and,  attended  by  their  maids,  they  left  us. 

"  Now,  Jepson,"  Lowney  began,  "  tell  us  all  you 
know  about  Mr.  Schuyler's  doings.  I  daresay  you 
know  as  much  as  the  valet  does.  Was  Mr.  Schuy 
ler  as  a  man  of  the  world,  different  from  his  life 
in  this  house  ?  ' 

Jepson  looked  perturbed.  "  That's  not  for  me 
to  say,  sir." 

"  Oh,  yes,  it  is,  my  man.  The  law  asks  you,  and 
it  is  for  you  to  tell  all  you  know." 

"  Well,  then,"  and  the  butler  weighed  his  words, 


76  VICKY  VAN 

"  my  master  was  always  most  strict  of  habit  in  his 
home.  The  ladies  are  very  reserved,  and  abide  by 
rules  and  standards,  that  are,  if  I  may  say  so,  out  of 
date  to-day.  But,  though  Mr.  Schuyler  was  by  no 
means  a  gay  man  or  a  member  of  any  fast  set,  yet 
I  have  reason  to  think,  sir,  that  at  times  he  might 
go  to  places  where  he  would  not  take  Mrs.  Schuyler, 
and  where  he  would  not  wish  Mrs.  Schuyler  to  know 
he  had  been  himself." 

"  That's  enough,"  said  Lowney.  "  I've  got  his 
number.  Now,  Jepson,  had  your  master  any 
enemies,  that  you  know  of?" 

"  Not  that  I  know  of.  But  I  know  nothing  of 
Mr.  Schuyler's  affairs.  I  see  him  go  out  of  an  even 
ing,  and  I  may  notice  that  he  comes  in  very  late,  but 
as  to  his  friends  or  enemies,  I  know  nothing  at  all. 
I  am  not  one  to  pry,  sir,  and  my  master  has  always 
trusted  me.  I  have  endeavored  not  to  betray  that 
trust" 

This  might  have  sounded  pharisaical  in  a  man 
of  less  sincerity  of  speech.  But  Jepson's  clear, 
straightforward  eyes  forbade  any  doubt  of  his 
honesty  and  truth. 

Again  I  was  glad  that  Mrs.  Schuyler  had  this 
staunch  helper  at  her  side,  for  I  foresaw  troublous 
times  in  store  for  her. 


THE  SCHUYLER  HOUSEHOLD  77 

"  And  you  never  heard  of  this  Miss  Van  Allen  ? 
Never  was  in  her  house  before?  " 

"  Never,  sir.  I  know  nothing  of  the  houses  on 
the  side  blocks."  I  winced  at  this.  "  Of  course,  I 
know  the  people  who  come  to  this  house,  but  there  is 
among  them  no  Miss  Van  Allen." 

"  Rather  not !  "  I  thought  to  myself.  And  then 
I  sighed  at  the  memory  of  Vicky  Van.  Had  she 
killed  this  millionaire?  And  if  so,  why? 

I  was  sure  Vicky  had  never  met  Randolph  Schuy- 
ler  before  that  evening.  I  had  seen  their  meet 
ing,  and  it  was  too  surely  the  glance  of  stranger 
to  stranger  that  had  passed  between  them,  to  make 
a  previous  acquaintance  possible.  Vicky  had  been 
charming  to  him,  as  she  always  was  to  every  one, 
but  she  showed  no  special  interest,  and  if  she  did 
really  kill  him,  it  was  some  unguessable  motive  that 
prompted  the  deed. 

I  thought  it  over.  Schuyler,  at  the  club,  dined 
and  wined,  had  perhaps  heard  Norman  Steele  extol 
the  charms  of  Vicky  Van.  Interested,  he  had  asked 
to  be  taken  to  Vicky's  house,  but,  as  it  was  so  near 
his  own,  a  sense  of  precaution  led  him  to  adopt 
another  name. 

Then  the  inexplicable  sequel ! 

And  the  mysterious  disappearance  of  Vicky 
herself. 


78  VICKY  VAN 

Though,  of  course,  the  girl  would  return.  As 
Mrs.  Reeves  had  said,  doubtless  she  had  witnessed 
the  crime,  and,  scared  out  of  her  wits,  had  run 
away.  Her  return  would  clear  up  the  matter. 

Then  the  waiter's  story? 

Well,  there  was  much  to  be  done.  And,  as  I 
suddenly  bethought  me,  it  was  time  I,  myself  went 
home! 

As  I  passed  Vicky  Van's  house,  on  my  way 
home,  I  saw  lights  pretty  much  all  over  it,  and  was 
strongly  tempted  to  go  in.  But  common  sense  told 
me  I  needed  rest,  and  not  only  did  I  have  many 
matters  to  attend  to  on  the  morrow,  but  I  had  to 
tell  the  story  to  Aunt  Lucy  and  Winnie ! 

That,  of  itself,  would  require  some  thought  and 
tactful  management,  for  I  was  not  willing  to  have 
them  condemn  Vicky  Van  entirely,  and  yet,  I  could 
think  of  no  argument  to  put  forth  for  the  girl's 
innocence. 

Time  alone  must  tell. 


CHAPTER  VI 
VICKY'S  WAYS 

"CHES-TER  CAL-HOUN!  Get  up  this  minute! 
There's  a  reporter  downstairs!  A  reporter!" 

My  sleepy  eyes  opened  to  find  Winnie  pounding 
my  shoulder  as  it  humped  beneath  the  blanket. 

"Hey?  What?"  I  grunted,  trying  to  collect 
my  perceptions. 

"  A  reporter! "  If  Winnie  had  said  a  Bengal 
tiger,  she  couldn't  have  looked  more  terrified. 

"Great  Scott!  Win — I  remember!  Clear  out, 
I'll  be  down  in  a  minute." 

I  dressed  in  record  time  and  went  downstairs  in 
three  leaps. 

In  the  library,  I  found  Aunt  Lucy,  wearing  an 
expression  that  she  might  have  shown  if  the  gar 
bage  man  had  asked  her  to  a  dance. 

But  Winnie  was  eagerly  drinking  in  the  story 
poured  forth  by  the  said  reporter,  who  was  quite 
evidently  enjoying  his  audience. 

"  Oh,  Chet,  this  is  Mr.  Bemis  of  The  Meteor. 
He's  telling  us  all  about  the — you  know — what 
happened." 

Winnie  was  too  timid  to  say  the  word  murder, 

79 


80  VICKY  VAN 

and  I  was  sorry  she  had  to  hear  the  awful  tale 
from  any  one  but  myself.  However,  there  was  no 
help  for  it  now,  and  I  joined  the  group  and  did  all  I 
could  to  bring  Aunt  Lucy's  eyebrows  and  nose 
down  to  their  accustomed  levels. 

But  it  was  an  awful  story,  make  the  best  of  it, 
and  the  truth  had  to  be  told. 

"  It  is  appalling,"  conceded  Aunt  Lucy,  at  length, 
"  but  the  most  regrettable  circumstance,  to  my  mind, 
is  your  connection  with  it  all,  Chester." 

"  Now,  Auntie,  have  a  little  heart  for  poor  Mrs. 
Schuyler,  and  those  old  lady  sisters.  Also  for  the 
man  himself " 

"  Oh,  I  have,  Chet.  I'm  not  inhuman.  But 
those  things  are  in  the  papers  every  day,  and  while 
one  feels  a  general  sympathy,  it  can't  be  personal  if 
one  doesn't  know  the  people.  But,  for  you  to  be 
mixed  up  in  such  matters " 

"  I  wasn't  mixed  up  in  it,  Aunt  Lucy,  except  as  I 
chose  to  mix  myself.  And  I've  no  doubt  I  should 
have  gotten  into  it  anyway.  Mr.  Bradbury  will 
have  a  lot  to  do  with  it,  I'm  sure.  I'm  no  better 
than  he  to  mix  in." 

"  In  a  business  way,  yes.  But  you  were  there 
socially — where  a  murder  was  committed " 

Aunt  Lucy  could  have  shown  no  more  horror  of 
it  all,  if  I  had  been  the  convicted  criminal. 


VICKY'S  WAYS  81 

"And,  I'm  glad  I  was!"  I  cried,  losing  pa 
tience  a  little.  "If  I  can  be  of  any  help  to  the 
Schuyler  people  or  to  Miss  Van  Allen,  I  shall  be 
willing  to  do  all  I  can. 

"  But  Miss  Van  Allen  is  the — the  murderer !  " 
and  Aunt  Lucy  whispered  the  word. 

"  Don't  say  that !  "  I  cried  sharply.  "  You  don't 
know  it  at  all,  and  there's  no  reason  to  condemn  the 
girl " 

I  paused.  Bemis  was  taking  in  my  every  word 
with  a  canny  understanding  of  what  I  said,  and  also 
of  what  I  didn't  say. 

"  Where  do  your  suspicions  tend,  Mr.  Calhoun  ?  " 
he  said  smoothly. 

"  Frankly,  Mr.  Bemis,  I  don't  know.  I  am  an 
acquaintance  of  Miss  Van  Allen  and  I  cannot  recon 
cile  the  idea  of  crime  with  her  happy,  gentle  nature. 
Nor  can  I  see  any  reason  to  suspect  the  waiter  who 
first  told  of  the  matter.  But  might  not  some  person, 
some  enemy  of  Mr.  Schuyler,  have  been  secreted  in 
the  house " 

"  A  plausible  theory,"  agreed  Bemis,  "  even  an 
obvious  one,  but  almost  no  chance  of  it.  I've  seen 
the  caterer's  people,  and  they  were  in  charge  of  the 
basement  rooms  and  the  dining-room  all  the  even 
ing.  Unless  it  were  one  of  the  guests  at  the  party,  I 
think  no  intruder  could  have  gotten  in." 
6 


82  VICKY  VAN 

"  Well,"  I  returned,  uneasily,  for  I  wished  he 
would  go,  "  it  isn't  up  to  us  to  invent  theories  or  to 
defend  them.  I  will  answer  your  necessary  ques 
tions,  but  pardon  me,  if  I  remind  you  that  I  am  a 
busy  man  and  I  haven't  yet  had  my  breakfast." 

Bemis  took  the  hint,  and  after  a  string  of  definite 
and  pertinent  questions,  he  left. 

Winnie  tried  to  detain  him,  but  my  curt  courtesy 
made  it  difficult  for  him  to  linger. 

"  Oh,  Chessy,"  cried  my  sister,  as  soon  as  Bemis 
had  gone,  "  it's  awful,  I  know,  but  isn't  it  exciting?  " 

"  Hush,  Winnie,"  reproved  Aunt  Lucy.  "  A 
girl  of  your  age  should  know  nothing  of  these  things, 
and  I  want  you  to  put  it  out  of  your  mind.  You 
can  be  of  no  help,  and  I  do  not  want  your  nerves 
disturbed  by  the  harrowing  details." 

"  That's  all  right,  Aunt  Lucy,"  I  put  in,  "  but 
this  is  going  to  be  a  celebrated  case,  and  Winnie 
can't  be  kept  in  ignorance  of  its  developments.  Now 
be  a  good  sort,  Auntie — accept  the  inevitable.  Try 
to  realize  that  I  must  do  what  seems  to  me  my  duty, 
and  if  that  brings  us  more  or  less  into  the  limelight 
of  publicity,  it  is  a  pity,  but  it  can't  be  helped." 

"  I  agree  to  all  that,  Chester,  dear.  But  you  are 
so  mixed  in  it  socially.  Why  did  you  ever  get  into 
that  set?" 


VICKY'S  WAYS  83 

"  It  isn't  a  bad  set,  Aunt  Lu.  It  isn't  a  fast  set, 
by  any  means." 

"  You  wouldn't  see  Winnie  or  me  there." 

"  No,  but  a  decent  man  goes  to  places  where  he 
wouldn't  take  his  women  people.  Now,  let  up, 
Auntie.  Trust  your  good-for-nothing  nevvy,  and 
just  do  all  you  can  to  help — by  doing  nothing." 

"  I'll  help  you,  Chessy-Cat.  I'll  do  exactly  as 
you  tell  me,  if  you'll  only  let  me  know  about  it,  and 
not  treat  me  like  a  baby,"  said  Winnie,  who  was 
wheedlesomely  assisting  my  breakfast  arrangements. 
She  sugared  and  creamed  my  cereal,  and,  as  I  dis 
patched  it,  she  buttered  toast  and  poured  coffee  and 
deftly  sliced  off  the  top  of  a  soft-boiled  egg. 

I  managed  to  eat  some  of  these  viands  between 
answers  to  their  rapid-fire  volley  of  questions  and 
at  last  I  made  ready  to  go  down  town. 

"  And  remember,"  I  said,  as  I  departed,  "  if  a  lot 
of  gossippy  old  hens  come  around  here  to-day — or 
your  chicken  friends — Winnie,  don't  tell  them  a 
thing.  Let  'em  get  it  from  the  papers,  or  apply  to 
information,  or  any  old  way,  but  don't  you  two  give 
out  a  line  of  talk !  See  ?  " 

I  kissed  them  both,  and  started  off. 

Of  course,  I  went  over  to  Vicky  Van's  first.  I 
had  been  on  the  proverbial  pins  and  needles  to  get 
there  ever  since  I  woke  to  consciousness  by  reason 


84  VICKY  VAN 

of  the  sisterly  pounding  that  brought  me  from  the 
land  of  dreams. 

The  house  had  an  inhabited  look,  and  when  I 
went  in,  I  was  greeted  by  the  odor  of  boiling  coffee. 
"  Come  right  down  here,"  called  Mrs.   Reeves 
from  the  basement. 

I  went  down,  passing  the  closed  dining-room 
door  with  a  shudder.  Two  or  three  policemen  were 
about,  in  charge  of  things  generally,  but  none  whom 
I  knew.  They  had  been  relieved  for  the  present. 
"  You're  still  here?  "  I  said,  a  little  inanely. 
"  Yes,"  returned  Mrs.  Reeves,  who  looked  tired 
and  wan.  "  I  stayed,  you  know,  but  I  couldn't  sleep 
any.  I  lay  down  on  the  music-room  couch,  but  I 
only  dozed  a  few  minutes  at  a  time.  I  kept  hearing 
strange  sounds  or  imagining  I  did,  and  the  police 
were  back  and  forth  till  nearly  daylight.  Down 
stairs,  they  were.  I  didn't  bother  them,  but  they 
knew  I  was  in  the  house,  if — if  Vicky  should  come 
home." 

Her  face  was  wistful  and  her  eyes  very  sad.  I 
looked  my  sympathy. 

"  You  liked  her,  I  know,"  she  went  on.  "  But 
everybody  'most,  has  turned  against  her.  Since 
they  found  the  man  was  Randolph  Schuyler,  all 
sympathy  is  for  him  and  his  widow.  They  all  con 
demn  Vicky." 


VICKY'S  WAYS  85 

"  You  can  scarcely  blame  them,"  I  began,  but  she 
interrupted. 

"  I  do  blame  them !  They've  no  right  to  accuse 
that  girl  unheard." 

"  The  waiter " 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know,  the  waiter!  Well,  don't  let's 
quarrel  about  it.  I  can't  stay  here  much  longer, 
though.  I  made  coffee  and  got  myself  some  break 
fast — but,  honest,  Mr.  Calhoun,  it  pretty  nearly 
choked  me  to  eat  sandwiches  that  had  been  made  for 
last  night's  surprise  supper !  " 

"  I  should  think  it  would !  Didn't  any  rolls  come, 
or  milk,  you  know  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  see  any.  Well,  I'll  go  home  this  morn 
ing,  but  I  shall  telephone  up  here  every  little  while. 
The  police  will  stay  here,  I  suppose." 

"  Yes,  for  a  day  or  two.  Do  you  think  Vicky 
will  come  back?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  She'll  have  to,  sooner  or  later. 
I  tried  to  make  myself  sleep  in  her  room  last  night, 
but  I  just  couldn't.  So  I  stayed  in  the  music  room. 
I  thought — I  suppose  it  was  foolish — but  I  thought 
maybe  she  might  telephone." 

"  She'd  hardly  do  that." 

"  I  don't  know.  It's  impossible  to  say  what  she 
might  do.  Oh,  the  whole  thing  is  impossible !  Think 
of  it,  Mr.  Calhoun.  Where  could  that  girl  have 


86  VICKY  VAN 

gone?  Alone,  at  midnight,  in  that  gorgeous  gown, 
no  hat  or  wrap " 

"  How  do  you  know  that?  " 

"  I  don't — not  positively.  But  if  she  had  put  on 
wraps  and  gone  out  by  either  door  she  would  surely 
have  been  seen  by  some  one  in  the  house.  I'm  just 
sure  she  didn't  go  out  by  the  front  street  door,  for 
we  in  the  living-room  must  have  noticed  her.  And 
she  couldn't  have  gone  out  by  the  area  door,  for 
there  were  waiters  all  about,  down  here." 

We  were  sitting  in  the  front  basement  room,  a 
pleasant  enough  place,  evidently  a  servants'  sitting 
room.  Before  Mrs.  Reeves,  on  the  table,  were  the 
remnants  of  her  scarce  tasted  breakfast.  As  she 
had  said,  the  tiny  sandwiches  and  rich  salad,  which 
she  had  procured  from  the  unused  stores  of  the 
caterer's  provision,  did  seem  too  closely  connected 
with  the  tragedy  to  be  appetizing. 

"  The  kitchen  is  back  of  this?  "  I  asked. 

"  Yes,  and  dumb  waiters  to  the  dining-room. 
I  confess  I've  looked  about  a  bit.  I'm  not  a  prying 
woman — but  I  felt  I  was  justified/' 

"  You  certainly  are,  Mrs.  Reeves,"  I  said, 
warmly,  for  she  was  thoroughly  good-hearted,  and 
a  staunch  friend  of  Vicky  Van.  "  Have  you  learned 
anything  illuminating?  " 


VICKY'S  WAYS  87 

"  No;  but  things  are  queer." 

"Queer,  how?" 

"  Well,  you  wouldn't  understand.  A  man 
couldn't.  But  it's  this  way.  Lots  of  potted  meats 
and  jars  of  jam  and  cans  of  tea  and  coffee  and 
cocoa  in  the  pantry,  but  no  fresh  meat  or  green  vege 
tables  about.  No  butter  in  the  icebox,  and  no  eggs 
or  bacon." 

"  Well,  what  does  that  imply  ?  I'm  no  house 
keeper,  I  admit." 

"  It  looks  to  me  as  if  Vicky  was  leaving  this 
morning — I  mean  as  if  she  had  expected  to  go  away 
to-day,  and  so  had  no  stuff  on  hand  to  spoil." 

"  Perhaps  this  is  her  market  day." 

"  No;  it's  queer,  that's  what  it  is.  You  know 
sometimes  Vicky  does  go  away  for  days  at  a  time." 

"  Hasn't  she  a  right  to?" 

"  Of  course  she  has.  I'm  thinking  it  out.  Where 
does  she  go?  And  wherever  it  is,  that's  where  she 
is  now !  " 

Mrs.  Reeves'  triumphant  air  seemed  to  settle  the 
question. 

"  But  all  that  isn't  queer,  my  dear  lady,"  I  said. 
"  We  all  know  Vicky  Van  gads  about  a  lot.  I've 
telephoned  her  myself  twice,  and  she  wasn't  here. 
Once,  Julie  answered,  and  once  there  was  no  re 
sponse  of  any  sort." 


88  VICKY  VAN 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  that's  the  case.  She  was  going 
away  on  a  visit  to-day,  maybe,  and  so  had  little 
food  on  hand  to  be  disposed  of.  A  good  house 
keeper  would  look  after  that.  Of  course,  it  wouldn't 
be  Vicky's  doing,  but  Julie's.  That  housekeeper  is 
a  treasure.  She  could  run  a  hotel  if  she  wanted  to." 

"  Then,  perhaps,"  I  mused,  aloud,  "  Vicky  ran 
away  and  went  to  the  place,  wherever  it  is,  that  she 
expected  to  visit  to-day." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  This  is  all  merely  con 
jecture.  And,  too,  how  could  she,  in  that  dress? 
No,  she  has  gone  to  some  friend  in  town.  She 
must  have  done  so.  A  hotel  wouldn't  take  her  in — 
why,"  Mrs.  Reeves'  voice  broke,  "  you  know  that 
waiter  said  there — there  was  blood  on  Vicky's 
gown ! " 

"  Do  you  believe  that  ?  " 

"If  we  believe  him  at  all,  why  shouldn't  we  be 
lieve  the  whole  tale  ?  I  don't  know  Vicky  Van,  you 
understand,  except  as  a  casual  friend.  I  mean,  I 
know  nothing  of  her  family,  her  past,  or  her  person 
ality,  except  as  I've  seen  her  in  a  friendly  way.  I 
like  her,  thoroughly,  but  I  can't  honestly  say  that  I 
know  her." 

"Who  does?" 

"  Nobody.  All  her  friends  say  the  same  thing. 
She  is  lovely  and  dear,  but  never  confidential,  or 
communicative  regarding  herself." 


VICKY'S  WAYS  89 

"  Wherever  she  went,  Julie  must  be  with  her," 
I  suggested. 

"  I  don't  know.  I  dare  say  that  is  so,  but  how 
on  earth  could  two  women  get  out  of  this  house 
without  its  being  known?" 

"  And  yet,  they  did.  Whether  alone  or  together, 
they  both  got  away  last  night.  You  don't  think 
they're  still  concealed  in  the  house?  " 

"Oh,  no,  of  course  not;  after  the  search  we 
made." 

"  I  can't  help  thinking  they'll  turn  up  to-day. 
Julie,  anyway.  Why,  Miss  Van  Allen  must  come 
back  or  send  back  for  her  valuables.  I  saw  jewelry 
and  money  in  the  dressing-room." 

"Yes;  but,  of  course,  they're  safe  enough. 
They're  all  in  care  of  the  police." 

We  were  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  a  police 
man  and  a  woman  who  had  come  to  work. 

"  She  says,"  the  policeman  addressed  Mrs. 
Reeves,  "  that  she  was  expected  here  to-day  to  clean. 
Now,  we  can't  let  her  disturb  things  much,  but  she'd 
better  wash  up  a  little,  and  throw  away  some  of  the 
supper  stuff  that  won't  keep." 

Everybody  seemed  to  look  to  Mrs.  Reeves  as  a 
sort  of  proxy  housekeeper,  and  I  wondered  what 
they  would  have  done  without  her.  Though  I  sup 
pose  they  would  have  managed. 


90  VICKY  VAN 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  was  her  glad  response.  "  Let 
her  tidy  up  these  breakfast  things  I've  used,  and 
there's  some  cups  and  plates  in  the  kitchen,  for  I 
gave  those  poor  policemen  some  food  'long  'bout 
three  o'clock  this  morning.  And  she  can  throw  out 
the  melted  ice  cream,  it's  no  good  to  anybody,  and 
it  surely  isn't  evidence!  " 

I  determined  to  ask  the  working-woman  some 
questions,  but  the  police  forestalled  me. 

Ferrall  came  down  and  joined  us,  and  spoke  to 
her  at  once. 

"  Good  morning,  Mrs.  Flaherty.  Don't  you  do 
anything  now,  but  just  what  you're  told  to  do.  And 
first,  tell  us  a  thing  or  two.  How  often  do  you  come 
here?  I've  seen  you  in  and  out,  now  and  again." 

"  Yes,  I  do  be  comin'  whin  I'm  sint  for ;  not  of  a 
reg'lar  day.  Maybe  wanst  a  week,  maybe  of'ner. 
Thin  agin,  not  for  a  fortnight." 

"  Just  as  I  said,"  declared  Mrs.  Reeves.  "  Vicky 
often  goes  away  for  days  at  a  time." 

"  Shure  she  does  that.  Miss  Van  Allen  is  here 
to-day  an'  gone  to-morrow,  but  Miss  Julie  she  looks 
after  me  wurruk,  so  she  does." 

"  She  engages  you  when  you  are  needed  ?  "  I 
asked. 

"  Yes,  sir.  They's  a  tillyphone  in  me  husband's 
shop,  an'  if  anny  wan  calls  me,  he  lets  me  know." 


VICKY'S  WAYS  91 

"  When  did  they  tell  you  to  come  here  to-day?  " 

"  'Twas  yisterday,  sir.  Miss  Julie,  she  sinds 
wurrud  for  me  to  come  this  marnin'  to  clane,  as  they 
do  be  havin'  a  party  last  night.  Ach,  that  this 
thrubble  should  come !  " 

"  There,  now,  Mrs.  Flaherty,  never  mind  your 
personal  feelings.  We're  in  a  hurry."  Ferrall  was 
busy  making  notes  of  the  information  he  was  get 
ting,  and  I  could  well  understand,  that  any  side-light 
on  Vicky's  home  life  was  of  importance.  So  I 
tarried  to  listen. 

"  How  long  have  you  worked  for  Miss  Van 
Allen?" 

"  A  matther  av  a  year  or  more." 

"  You  clean  the  rooms  upstairs,  sometimes  ?  " 

"  All  over  the  house.  Manny's  the  time  I've 
shwept  an'  vacuumed  Miss  Van  Allen's  own  bed 
room  an'  boodore.  An'  likewise  the  music  room  an' 
parlure  an'  all.  Yis,  sor,  I'm  here  frekint." 

"  What  other  servants  does  Miss  Van  Allen  em 
ploy?" 

"  Nobody  that  lives  in,  'ceptin'  Miss  Julie.  But 
there's  the  laundry  woman,  as  comes — though  more 
often  the  wash  goes  out.  Thin,  there's  a  chore  boy, 
as  runs  arrants ;  an'  sometimes  a  sewin'  woman ;  an' 
often  the  caterer  man's  dagoes.  Yis,  an'  a  boy,  a 
Buttons  you  know,  to  open  the  dure  for,  say,  an 


92  VICKY  VAN 

afternoon  party.  You  see,  Miss  Van  Allen  is  off 
visitin'  so  much,  she  don't  want  steady  help." 

"  Where  does  she  visit?  " 

"  That  I  dunno.  But  go,  she  does,  an'  I'm 
thinkin'  it's  good  times  she  has.  For  she  comes  back, 
chipper  an'  merry  an'  glad  to  see  her  friends — an' 
thin,  all  of  a  suddint,  up  an'  off  agin." 

I  knew  that  was  Vicky  Van's  habit.  All  that 
the  woman  said  corroborated  my  idea  of  the  little 
butterfly's  frivolous  life.  So,  why  should  she  keep 
permanent  servants  if  she  was  at  home  only  half 
the  time  ?  I  knew  the  troubles  Aunt  Lucy  had  with 
her  menials,  and  I  approved  of  Vicky's  wisdom. 

"  And  that  explains  the  empty  icebox,"  Mrs. 
Reeves  was  saying,  nodding  her  head  in  satisfaction. 
"  Vicky  meant  to  go  off  to-day,  after  the  house  was 
put  in  order,  and  she  didn't  want  a  lot  of  food  left 
to  spoil." 

"  Yis,  mum,"  agreed  Mrs.  Flaherty.  "  Shall  I 
wash  thim  dishes  now,  mum?  " 

And  she  was  allowed  to  set  to  work. 


CHAPTER  VII 

RUTH   SCHUYLER 

THERE  were  many  calls  on  Vicky  Van's  tele 
phone  that  morning.  It  seemed  to  me  that  the  bell 
rang  almost  continually.  The  police  people  answered 
it,  and  one  time,  I  was  surprised  to  learn  that  the 
call  was  for  me. 

I  took  up  the  receiver  and  heard  Mr.  Bradbury's 
voice. 

"  I  called  up  your  home,"  he  said,  "  and  your 
sister  told  me  to  try  this  number.  Now,  look  here, 
Calhoun,  I  wish  you'd  go  to  see  Mrs.  Schuyler. 
I've  talked  with  her  over  the  telephone,  and  she  asked 
me  to  come  up  there,  but  I've  got  the  Crittendon 
case  on  this  morning,  and  I  can't  get  away  very 
well.  So  you  go  and  see  what  you  can  do  for  her. 
She  told  me  you  were  there  last  night,  and  she's 
willing  to  have  you  in  my  place." 

I  agreed,  feeling  rather  flattered  that  the  rich 
man's  widow  should  so  readily  accept  me  as  Mr. 
Bradbury's  substitute. 

"  I'm  sorry  you're  going  there,"  said  Mrs. 
Reeves,  her  eyes  filling  with  tears,  as  I  took  leave 
of  her.  "  Of  course,  the  Schuylers  will  pump  you 

93 


94  VICKY  VAN 

about  Vicky,  and  try  to  make  you  say  that  she 
killed  that  man !  " 

"  I  must  tell  Mrs.  Schuyler  the  truth,  "  I  said. 

"  Yes,  but  can't  you  give  Vicky  the  benefit  of 
the  doubt?  For  there  is  a  doubt.  Why  should  she 
kill  a  man  she  never  had  seen  before  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  he  wasn't  a  stranger  to  her,  after  all." 

"  Why,  I  heard  her  say,  before  he  came,  that  she 
didn't  know  him." 

"  You  heard  her  say  she  didn't  know  Mr. 
Somers,"  I  corrected.  "  I've  been  thinking  this  thing 
over.  Suppose  Vicky  did  know  Mr.  Schuyler,  and 
when  Steele  proposed  bringing  a  Mr.  Somers " 

"No,  you're  all  wrong!"  she  exclaimed.  "I 
saw  them  when  they  met,  and  I'm  sure  they  had 
never  laid  eyes  on  each  other  before.  There  was 
not  the  least  sign  of  recognition.  Besides,  that  isn't 
like  Vicky — to  have  a  millionaire  and  a  married  man 
for  her  friend.  That  girl  is  all  right,  Mr.  Calhoun, 
and  I  don't  want  you  to  let  Mrs.  Schuyler  think  she 
isn't." 

"  Perhaps  Mrs.  Schuyler  knows  something  about 
her." 

"  I  doubt  it.  Anyway,  you  stand  up  for  Vicky, 
as  far  as  you  can  do  so  honestly.  Won't  you?  " 

"  lean  surely  promise  that,"  I  replied,  as  I  started 
on  my  errand. 


RUTH  SCHUYLER  95 

Approaching  the  Fifth  Avenue  residence,  I  looked 
at  the  house,  which  I  had  been  unable  to  see  clearly 
the  night  before. 

It  was  large  and  handsome,  but  not  one  of  the 
most  modern  mansions.  Four  stories,  it  was,  and  as 
I  glanced  up  I  noticed  that  all  the  window  shades 
were  down.  The  floral  emblem  of  death  hung  at 
one  side  of  the  wide  entrance,  and  as  I  approached, 
the  door  silently  swung  open. 

A  footman  was  in  charge,  and  I  was  unshered 
at  once  to  the  library  where  I  had  been  some  hours 
earlier.  It  was  not  a  cheerful  room;  the  appoint 
ments  were  heavy  and  somber,  though  evidently  the 
woods  and  fabrics  were  of  great  value.  A  shaded 
electrolier  gave  a  dim  light,  for  the  drawn  blinds 
precluded  daylight. 

A  soft  step,  and  Mrs.  Schuyler  came  into  the 
room. 

Black  garb  was  not  becoming  to  her.  The  night 
before,  in  her  blue  house-dress,  she  had  looked  al 
most  pretty,  but  now,  in  a  black  gown,  without  even 
a  bit  of  relieving  white  at  her  throat,  she  was  plain 
and  very  pathetic. 

Her  face  was  pale  and  drawn,  and  her  eyes 
showed  dark  shadows,  as  of  utter  weariness.  She 
greeted  me  simply  and  glided  to  a  nearby  chair. 

"  It  is  kind  of  you  to  come,  Mr.  Calhoun,"  and 


96  VICKY  VAN 

the  fine  quality  of  her  voice  and  inflection  betokened 
New  England  ancestry,  or  training.  "  As  you  were 
here  last  night — you  seem  more  like  a  friend  than 
a  mere  business  acquaintance." 

"  I  am  very  glad,  Mrs.  Schuyler,"  and  I  spoke 
sincerely,  "  that  you  look  on  me  like  that.  Please 
tell  me  anything  you  wish  to,  and  command  me  in 
any  way  I  can  serve  you." 

The  speech  sounded  a  little  stilted,  I  knew,  but 
there  was  something  about  Ruth  Schuyler  that 
called  for  dignified  address.  She  had  the  air  of 
bewildered  helplessness  that  always  appeals  to  a 
man,  but  she  had,  too,  a  look  of  determination  as  to 
one  who  would  do  the  right  thing  at  any  cost  of 
personal  unpleasantness. 

"It  is  all  so  dreadful,"  she  began,  and  an  in- 
suppressible  sob  threatened  her  speech.  But  she 
controlled  it,  and  went  on.  '  There  is  so  much  to 
be  gone  through  with  and  I  am  so  ignorant  of — of 
law  and — you  know — of  police  doings." 

"  I  understand,"  I  returned,  "  and  anything  that 
you  can  be  spared,  rest  assured  you  shall  be.  But 
there  is  much  ahead  of  you  that  will  be  hard  for 
you — very  hard,  and  perhaps  I  can  help  you  get 
ready  for  it." 

"Will  there  be  an  inquest,  and  all  that?"  she 
whispered  the  word  half  fearfully. 


RUTH  SCHUYLER  97 

"  Yes,  there  must  be ;  though  not  for  several 
days,  probably.  You  know  they  can't  find  Miss  Van 
Allen." 

"  No.  Where  can  she  be  ?  I  don't  suppose  they 
will  ever  find  her.  Why  should  she  kill  my  hus 
band  ?  Have  you  any  theory,  Mr.  Calhoun  ?  How 
well  did  you  know  this — this  person  ?  " 

"  Only  fairly  well.  By  which  I  mean,  I  have 
met  her  some  half  a  dozen  times." 

"  Always  in  her  own  house?  " 

"  Not  always.  I've  attended  studio  parties 
where  she  was  present 

"  Oh,  Bohemian  affairs  ?  " 

"  Not  exactly.  Miss  Van  Allen  is  a  delightful 
girl,  bright  and  of  merry  spirits,  but  in  no  way  fast 
or  of  questionable  habits." 

"  That's  what  they  tell  me;  but  pardon  me,  if  I 
cannot  believe  a  really  nice,  correct  young  woman 
would  have  a  married  man  visiting  her." 

"  But  remember,  Mrs.  Schuyler,  Miss  Van  Allen 
did  not  invite  Mr.  Schuyler  to  her  house.  As  near 
as  we  can  make  out,  Mr.  Steele  brought  him,  with 
out  Miss  Van  Allen's  permission.  And  under  an 
assumed  name." 

A  blush  of  shame  stained  her  face. 

"  I  realize,"  she  said,  "  how  that  reflects  against 
my  husband.  Must  all  this  be  made  public,  Mr. 
Calhoun?  " 

7 


98  VICKY  VAN 

"  I  fear  it  must.  The  law  is  inexorable  in  its 
demands  for  justice." 

"  But  if  they  can't  find  Miss  Van  Allen,  how 
can  they  indict  her  ?  or  whatever  the  term  is.  Why 
can't  the  whole  affair  be  hushed  up?  Personally, 
I  would  far  rather  never  find  the  girl — never  have 
her  punished,  than  to  drag  the  Schuyler  name 
through  the  horrors  of  a  murder  trial." 

"  I  quite  understand  your  position,  but  it  will 
not  be  possible  to  evade  the  legal  proceedings.  Of 
course,  if  Miss  Van  Allen  is  never  found,  the  affair 
must  remain  a  mystery.  But  she  will  be  found.  A 
lady  like  that  can't  drop  out  of  existence." 

"  No,  of  course  not.  Why,  her  bills  must  be 
paid,  her  household  effects  looked  after;  is  she  in 
a  house  or  an  apartment  ?  " 

"  A  house.    I  understand  she  owns  it." 

"  Then  she  must  communicate  with  her  business 
people — lawyer,  bank  or  creditors.  Can't  you  trace 
her  that  way?  " 

"  We  hope  to.  As  you  say,  she  must  surely 
return  to  attend  to  such  matters." 

"  And  her  servants  ?    What  do  they  say  ?  " 

I  described  the  unusual  menage  that  Vicky  Van 
supported,  and  Mrs.  Schuyler  was  interested. 

"  How  strange,"  she  said.  "  She  sounds  to 
me  like  an  adventuress !  " 


RUTH  SCHUYLER  99 

"  No,  she  isn't  that.     She  has  money  enough." 

"  Where  does  she  get  it  ?  ' 

"  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure.  But  she  is  a  quiet, 
self-reliant  little  person,  and  not  at  all  of  the  ad 
venturess  type." 

"  It  doesn't  matter,"  and  Mrs.  Schuyler  sighed. 
"  I  don't  care  anything  about  her  personality.  She 
must  be  bad  or  she  wouldn't  have  killed  my  husband. 
I'm  not  defending  him,  but  men  don't  go  to  the 
houses  of  complete  strangers  and  get  murdered  by 
them!  And  I  hope  she  will  never  be  found,  for  it 
might  bring  out  a  story  of  scandal  or  shame  that 
will  always  cling  to  Mr.  Schuyler's  memory.  But, 
of  course,  she  will  come  back,  and  she  will  plead 
innocence  and  lay  all  blame  on  Mr.  Schuyler.  Can't 
we  buy  her  off?  I  would  pay  a  large  sum  to  keep 
her  story  from  the  world." 

"  I'm  sorry,  Mrs.  Schuyler,  but  that  can't  be 
done." 

"  I  thought  you  would  help  me — I'm  so  dis 
appointed." 

Tears  gathered  in  her  eyes,  and  her  voice  trem 
bled.  I  wished  Bradbury  had  had  this  job  instead 
of  myself,  for  I  am  soft-hearted  where  feminine 
appeal  is  concerned,  and  I  didn't  know  quite  what 
to  say. 


100  VICKY  VAN 

But  just  then  the  two  Schuyler  sisters  came  into 
the  library  and  I  rose  to  greet  them. 

"Oh,"  cried  Miss  Rhoda,  "it's  all  too  awful! 
We  can't  believe  it!  I  wish  I  had  that  girl  here! 
You  must  find  her,  Mr.  Calhoun — you  must!" 

"  Yes,"  chimed  in  Miss  Sarah ;  "  she  must  be 
brought  to  judgment.  An  eye  for  an  eye  and  a  life 
for  a  life.  That's  the  Scripture  law." 

"  Don't  talk  so,  Sarah,"  pleaded  Ruth  Schuyler. 
"  It  won't  bring  Randolph  back,  to  punish  his  mur 
derer.  And  think  of  the  awful  publicity !  " 

"  I  don't  care  for  that.  Murder  has  been  done 
and  murder  must  be  avenged.  I'm  ashamed  of  you, 
Ruth,  if  you  let  any  idea  of  personal  distaste  stand 
in  the  way  of  righteous  law  and  order." 

"  I,  too,"  agreed  Rhoda.  "  Spare  no  effort  or 
expense,  Mr.  Calhoun,  to  find  that  wicked  girl  and 
have  her  arrested." 

"  I  daresay  you  are  right,"  and  Mrs.  Schuyler's 
acquiescence  showed  her  to  be  more  or  less  under 
the  iron  hand  of  the  family  opinion.  "  Of  course, 
if  you  feel  that  way,  I  shall  raise  no  obstacle  to  the 
law's  progress.  Whatever  you  advise,  Rhoda,  I 
agree  to." 

"  Certainly  you  do.  You  are  young,  Ruth,  and 
you  are  not  a  Schuyler.  Why,  the  very  name  de 
mands  the  strongest  powers  of  the  law.  I  only  fear 


RUTH  SCHUYLER  101 

that  the  most  desperate  efforts  may  not  succeed. 
What  is  your  opinion,  Mr.  Calhoun?  Can  they  find 
that  woman  ?  " 

The  scorn  of  the  last  two  words,  as  uttered  by 
Rhoda  Schuyler's  sharp  tongue,  is  not  to  be  repro 
duced  in  print. 

"  I  think  most  probably,  yes,  Miss  Schuyler.  I 
think  she  must  return  sooner  or  later." 

"  Don't  wait  for  that !"  exclaimed  Sarah.  "  Send 
people  to  search  for  her.  Scour  the  country.  Don't 
let  her  get  away  beyond  retrieval.  Offer  a  reward, 
if  necessary,  but  get  her!  " 

"  A  reward !  "  repeated  Rhoda.  "  Yes,  that's 
it.  Put  it  in  the  paper  at  once ;  a  large  reward  for 
any  information  of  Miss  Van  Allen." 

"  Stay,"  I  urged ;  "  don't  decide  on  such  meas 
ures  too  hastily.  Might  you  not  defeat  your  own 
purpose?  Miss  Van  Allen  doubtless  will  see  the 
papers,  wherever  she  may  be.  If  she  learns  of  the 
reward,  she  will  hide  herself  more  securely  than 
ever." 

"  I  think  so,  too,"  said  Ruth,  in  her  gentle  voice. 
"  I  am  sure,  Rhoda,  we  oughtn't  to  do  anything  like 
that  just  yet.  Oh,  how  hard  it  is  to  know  what 
to  do." 

"  Yes,  we've  always  deferred  everything  to  Ran 
dolph.  How  can  we  get  along  without  him?  " 


102  VICKY  VAN 

"  We  must,"  and  Mrs.  Schuyler  set  her  pale  lips 
together  in  an  evident  determination  to  be  brave  and 
strong.  "  Now,  Mr.  Calhoun,  what  is  there  to  be 
discussed  in  a  business  way  ?  I  mean  regarding  Mr. 
Schuyler's  business  with  you  or  Mr.  Bradbury?  " 

"  Nothing  at  present,"  I  returned,  feeling  sure 
the  poor  woman  had  quite  enough  on  her  mind. 
"  The  will  can  be  examined  at  your  convenience,  and 
any  questions  of  securities  or  money  can  rest  over 
for  a  time.  Do  you  wish  any  ready  cash  ?  Or  shall 
we  look  after  any  money  matters?  " 

"  Thank  you,  no.  Such  things  are  systematic 
ally  arranged  in  the  household.  Jepson  attends  to 
bills  and  tradesmen.  My  greatest  wish  is  for  a 
secretary  or  some  person  to  write  notes  and  look 
after  the  flood  of  letters  and  telegrams  that  has 
already  begun." 

I  felt  surprised,  for  I  had  assumed  that  the  rich 
man's  wife  had  a  social  secretary  of  her  own. 

"I've  no  one,"  she  said,  in  response  to  my 
glance,  "  Mr.  Schuyler  didn't  wish  me  to  have  a 
secretary,  and  indeed  I  didn't  need  one.  But  now 


"  Of  course,  it  is  necessary  now." 
"  Not  at  all,"  interrupted  Miss  Rhoda.     "  I  am 
surprised  at  you,  Ruth !     You  know  how  Randolph 


RUTH  SCHUYLER  103 

objected  to  such  things,  and  now,  as  soon  as  he  is 
gone,  you  begin  to " 

"  Hush,  Rhoda,"  said  Ruth,  with  gentle  dignity. 
"  It  was  not  necessary  before,  but  it  is  now.  You've 
no  idea  what  a  task  it  will  be.  All  our  friends  and 
many  of  Randolph's  acquaintances  will  call  or  send 
messages  and  they  must  be  acknowledged " 

"  And,  pray,  what  else  have  you  to  do,  but 
acknowledge  them  ?  Sarah  and  I  will  attend  to  our 
own.  A  great  many,  doubtless,  but  not  too  much 
of  a  task  for  us,  when  it  is  in  memory  of  our  dear 
brother!" 

"  Very  well,"  and  Ruth  spoke  calmly,  "  we  will 
wait  for  a  day  or  two,  Mr.  Calhoun,  and  then,  if,  as  I 
believe,  the  matter  requires  further  consideration, 
we  will  discuss  it  again." 

Clever  woman,  I  thought  to  myself.  She  isn't 
altogether  chummy  with  those  old  maid  sisters,  and 
yet  she  knows  better  than  to  have  any  open  dis 
agreement.  I'll  bet  she  gets  her  secretary  when  she 
gets  ready  for  one!  I'll  be  on  the  lookout  for  the 
right  girl  for  her. 

"When  will  they  bring  my  husband  home?" 
she  continued,  without  waiting  for  comment  on  her 
decision  about  the  secretary. 

"  Some  time  to-day,"  I  returned,  looking  com- 
miseratingly  at  the  harassed  white  face.  "  Prob- 


104  VICKY  VAN 

ably  this  afternoon.  Can  I  take  any  message  re 
garding  the  funeral  arrangements?" 

"  Not  yet,"  and  Ruth  Schuyler  shuddered. 
"  Those  details  are  so  terrible " 

"  Terrible,  yes,"  said  Miss  Sarah,  "  but  they  must 
be  looked  after.  We  will  see  the  undertaker's  men, 
Ruth.  I  think  Rhoda  and  I  will  know  better  what  is 
fit  and  proper  for  Randolph's  burial  ceremonies  than 
you  possibly  can." 

I  began  to  realize  that  the  sisters  had  a  family 
pride  which  did  not  include  their  brother's  wife  in 
their  councils.  Apparently  she  was,  or  they  deemed 
her,  of  lesser  birth  or  social  standing.  Personally, 
however,  I  greatly  preferred  the  gentle  kindliness 
of  the  widow  to  the  aristocratic  hauteur  of  the 
sisters. 

Ruth  Schuyler  made  no  objection  to  the  propo 
sition,  and  seemed  relieved  that  her  advice  would 
not  be  required. 

"  Who  is  in  the  house  where  Mr.  Schuyler  was 
— where  he  died?"  she  asked,  hesitatingly. 

"  Only  the  police,"  I  answered,  "  unless  Miss 
Van  Allen  has  returned." 

"  Were — were  there  many  people  there — last 
night?" 

Clearly,  she  wanted  to  know  more  details  of  the 
occasion,  but  didn't  like  to  show  curiosity. 


RUTH  SCHUYLER  105 

"  Yes,"  I  informed  her,  "  quite  a  number.  It 
was  Miss  Van  Allen's  birthday,  and  so,  a  sort  of 
little  celebration." 

"  Her  birthday?    How  old  was  she?  " 

"I've  no  idea.  I  should  guess  about  twenty- two 
or  twenty-three." 

"  Is  she — is — what  does  she  look  like?  " 

The  eternal  feminine  wanted  to  ask  "  is  she 
pretty  ?  "  but  Ruth  Schuyler's  dignity  scarcely  per 
mitted  the  question.  I  noticed,  too,  that  the  sisters 
listened  attentively  for  my  reply. 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  truthfully,  "  she  is  pretty.  She 
is  small,  with  very  black  hair,  and  large,  dark  gray 
eyes.  She  is  exceedingly  chic  and  up-to-date  as  to 
costumes,  and  is  of  vivacious  and  charming  manner." 

"  Humph!  "  sniffed  Miss  Rhoda,  "  an  actress?  " 

"  Not  at  all !  Victoria  Van  Allen  is  a  well-bred 
lady  if  there  ever  was  one." 

"  You  are  a  staunch  friend,  Mr.  Calhoun,"  and 
Mrs.  Schuyler  looked  her  surprise. 

"  I  speak  only  as  I  feel;  I  can't  say  surely  that 
Miss  Van  Allen  did  not  commit  this  crime,  for  I 
know  there  is  evidence  against  her.  But  I  can't 
reconcile  the  deed  with  her  character,  as  I  know  it, 
and  I,  for  one,  shall  wait  further  developments  be 
fore  I  condemn  her.  But,  of  course,  Mrs.  Schuyler, 
my  personal  feelings  in  the  matter  have  no  weight  in 


106  VICKY  VAN 

law,  and  I  stand  ready  to  obey  whatever  orders  you 
may  give  in  connection  with  a  search  for  the  missing 
girl." 

"  I  don't  know  exactly  what  I  do  want  done,  yet, 
Mr.  Calhoun,"  and  Ruth  Schuyler  glanced  defer- 
ringly  toward  the  sisters. 

"  No,  we  don't."  For  once  Sarah  agreed  with 
Ruth.  "  After  the  funeral,  we  can  set  our  minds  to 
the  finding  of  the  criminal.  Of  course,  the  police 
will  do  all  they  can,  meantime,  to  trace  her  ?  " 

"Of  course.  And  such  a  plan  is  best.  She  may 
return 

"  To  a  house  guarded  by  police?  "  asked  Ruth. 

"Possibly.     If  she  is  innocent,  why  not?" 

"  Innocent !  "  exclaimed  Miss  Rhoda  with  utmost 
scorn. 

"  Some  of  her  friends  think  her  so,"  I  observed. 
"  Mrs.  Reeves,  a  lady  who  was  at  the  party,  stayed  in 
the  house  all  night,  and  is,  I  think,  there  still." 

"  Why  did  she  do  that?  "  asked  Mrs.  Schuyler, 
looking  puzzled. 

"  She  hoped  Miss  Van  Allen  would  return,  and 
she  waited  there  to  look  after  her." 

"  That  was  kind.    Who  is  this  lady  ?" 

"  She  lives  down  on  Washington  Square.  I  only 
know  her  slightly,  but  she  is  a  warm-hearted  and  a 


RUTH  SCHUYLER  107 

most  capable  and  sensible  one.  She  refuses  to  be 
lieve  that  Vicky  Van " 

"  What  do  you  call  her?  " 

"  Her  friends  call  her  Vicky  Van.  It — it  sort  of 
suits  her." 

"  From  what  you  say,  I  judge  she  is  not  the 
terror  I  thought  her  at  first;  but,  all  the  same,  she 
murdered  my  husband,  and  I  cannot  look  on  her  as 
you  seem  to." 

"  Nor  can  I  blame  you.  Your  feelings  toward 
her  are  entirely  just,  Mrs.  Schuyler." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  LETTER-BOX 

"  IT'S  a  queer  case,"  said  Mr.  Bradbury  to  me, 
when  I  reached  the  office  that  afternoon.  "  Of 
course,  I  know  Randolph  Schuyler  was  no  saint,  but 
I  never  supposed  he  was  deep  enough  in  any  affair 
to  have  a  woman  kill  him.  And  so  near  his  own 
home,  too !  He  might  have  had  the  decency  to  choose 
his  lady  acquaintances  in  more  remote  sections  of 
the  city." 

"  That  isn't  the  queerest  part  to  me,"  I  returned. 
"  What  I  can't  understand  is,  why  that  girl  stabbed 
him.  She  didn't  know  him " 

"  Now,  now,  Calhoun,  she  must  have  known 
him.  She  didn't  know  any  Somers,  we'll  say,  but 
she  must  have  known  Schuyler.  A  murder  has  to 
have  a  motive.  She  had  provided  herself  with  that 
knife  beforehand,  you  see,  and  she  got  him  out  to 
the  dining-room  purposely." 

"  I  can't  think  it,"  I  said,  and  I  sighed.  "  I  know 
Vicky  Van  fairly  well,  and  she  wouldn't " 

"  You  can't  say  what  a  woman  would  or  wouldn't 
do.  But  it's  not  our  business  to  look  after  the 
criminal  part  of  it,  we've  got  all  we  can  handle, 

108 


THE  LETTER-BOX  109 

attending  to  the  estate.  And  here's  another  thing. 
I  wish  you'd  do  all  that's  necessary  up  at  the  house. 
I  always  got  along  all  right  with  Randolph  Schuyler, 
but  I  can't  stand  those  sisters  of  his.  His  wife  I 
have  never  met.  But  those  old  Schuyler  women  get 
on  my  nerves.  So  you  look  after  them.  You're 
more  of  a  ladies'  man  than  I  am,  so  you  go  there  and 
talk  pretty  when  they  want  legal  advice." 

"  I'm  willing,"  I  agreed.  "  I  don't  care  such  a 
lot  for  the  sisters  myself,  but  Mrs.  Schuyler  is  a 
young  thing,  ignorant  of  her  own  rights,  and  those 
odd  maids  boss  her  like  fury.  I'm  going  to  see  that 
she  has  her  own  way  in  some  few  things,  at  least. 
She  inherits  half  the  fortune,  you  know." 

"  Yes,  and  the  sisters  a  quarter  each.  That  is, 
after  some  minor  bequests  and  charitable  donations 
are  settled.  Schuyler  was  a  good  sort — as  men  go." 

"  Then  men  go  pretty  badly !  He  was  a  brute  to 
his  wife;  I've  been  told  he  ruled  her  with  a  rod  of 
iron,  and  what  he  didn't  bother  her  about,  the  old 
sisters  did." 

"  That's  neither  here  nor  there.  Don't  you  try 
to  be  a  peacemaker  in  that  family.  I  know  those  two 
old  ladies,  and  they'd  resent  anything  in  the  way  of 
criticism  of  their  treatment  of  their  sister-in-law. 
And,  if  Schuyler  didn't  treat  his  wife  handsomely, 
she's  rid  of  him  now,  at  any  rate." 


110  VICKY  VAN 

"  You're  a  cold-blooded  thing,  Bradbury,"  I  in 
formed  him,  "  and  I  am  going  to  do  all  I  can  for  that 
young  widow.  She'll  have  a  lot  of  unpleasant  pub 
licity  at  best,  and  if  I  can  shield  her  from  part  of  it, 
so  much  the  better." 

"  All  right,  Calhoun.  Do  what  you  like,  but 
don't  get  in  on  the  detective  work.  I  know  your 
weakness  for  that  sort  of  thing,  and  I  know  if  you 
begin,  you'll  never  let  up." 

Bradbury  was  right.  I  have  a  fondness  for  de 
tective  work — not  the  police  part  of  it,  but  the  in 
quiry  into  mystery,  the  deduction  from  clues  and  the 
sifting  of  evidence.  I  had  no  mind  to  miss  the  in 
quest,  and  I  had  a  burning  curiosity  to  know  what 
had  become  of  Vicky  Van.  This  was  not  only  curi 
osity,  either.  I  had  a  high  respect  and  a  genuine 
liking  for  that  little  lady,  and,  as  Mrs.  Reeves  had 
put  it,  I  was  only  too  willing  to  give  her  the  benefit 
of  the  doubt. 

Though  I  couldn't  feel  any  real  doubt  that  she 
had  killed  Schuyler.  As  Bradbury  said,  she  didn't 
know  a  Mr.  Somers,  but  she  may  have  known  the 
millionaire  Schuyler.  I  had  never  seen  anything  of 
a  seamy  side  to  Vicky's  character;  but  then,  I 
didn't  know  her  so  very  well,  and  the  man  was  dead, 
and  who  else  could  have  killed  him? 

I  went  around  to  the  caterer's  on  my  way  uptown 


THE  LETTER-BOX  111 

that  afternoon,  and  asked  him  as  to  the  reliability  of 
Luigi  and  the  probable  truth  of  his  story. 

"  That  man,"  Fraschini  told  me,  "  is  as  honest 
as  the  day.  I've  had  him  longer  than  any  of  my 
other  waiters,  and  he  has  never  said  or  done  any 
thing  to  make  me  doubt  his  accuracy.  I  believe, 
Mr.  Calhoun,  that  Luigi  saw  exactly  what  he  said 
he  saw." 

"  Might  he  not  have  been  mistaken  in  the  identity 
of  the  woman?  " 

"  Not  likely.  I'll  call  him,  and  you  can  ques 
tion  him." 

This  was  what  I  wanted,  to  question  the  waiter 
alone,  and  I  welcomed  the  opportunity. 

"  I  know  it  \vas  Miss  Van  Allen,"  was  the  quiet 
response  of  the  Italian  to  my  inquiry.  "  I  cannot  be 
mistaken.  I  had  seen  her  many  times  during  the 
evening.  I,  therefore,  recognized  the  gown  she 
wore,  of  light  yellow  gauzy  stuff  and  an  over-dress 
of  long  gold  bead  fringes.  I  saw  her  stand  above  the 
fallen  body,  looking  down  at  it  with  a  horrified  face. 
I  saw  stains  of  blood  on  her  gown " 

"  Where?  "  I  interrupted.  "  What  part  of  her 
gown?  " 

Luigi  thought  a  moment.  "  On  the  lower 
flounces,  as  if  her  skirts  had  brushed  against  the — 
the  victim,  when  she  stooped  over  him." 

"  Did  she  herself  observe  these  stains? " 


112  VICKY  VAN 

"  Yes ;  she  looked  at  them,  and  looked  fright 
ened  and  then  she  ran  to  the  hall." 

"  And  you  saw  no  other  person  near?  " 

"  None." 

"  And  heard  nobody?  " 

"  I  heard  only  the  voices  from  the  parlor.  There 
was  much  noise  of  laughter  and  talk  there." 

No  amount  of  questioning  could  change  or  add 
to  Luigi's  story.  It  was  quite  evident  that  he  was 
telling  just  what  he  saw,  and  had  no  interest  in 
coloring  it  to  make  it  appear  different  in  any  way. 
He  admired  Miss  Van  Allen,  he  said  she  was  a 
pleasant  lady  and  not  hard  to  please  if  her  orders 
were  faithfully  carried  out.  He  expressed  no  per 
sonal  interest  in  the  question  of  her  guilt  or  in 
nocence,  he  simply  told  what  he  had  seen.  I  didn't 
altogether  like  his  stolid  indifference,  it  seemed  im 
possible  there  should  be  so  little  humanity  in  a 
fellow^being,  but  I  knew  he  was  a  good  and  con 
scientious  waiter,  and  I  concluded  he  was  nothing 
more. 

I  went  home,  and,  of  course,  was  met  by  Aunt 
Lucy  and  Winnie  with  a  perfect  storm  of  questions. 

"  After  dinner,"  I  begged.  "  Let  me  get  a  little 
rest  and  food,  and  then  I'll  tell  you  all  I  know." 

But  after  a  few  spoonfuls  of  soup,  Winnie  de 
clared  I  was  too  nervous  to  eat  and  I  might  as  well 
talk. 


THE  LETTER-BOX  113 

"  Well,  I  will,"  I  said.  "  But,  look  here,  you 
two.  To  begin  with,  I  want  you  to  understand  that 
I'm  involved  in  this  matter  in  a  business  way,  and 
I'm  also  interested  in  a  personal  way.  And  I  don't 
want  any  silly  talk  about  it's  being  unfortunate  or 
regrettable  that  I  should  be.  It's  a  business  case, 
Aunt  Lucy,  as  far  as  the  settlement  of  Mr.  Schuyler's 
estate  is  concerned,  and  it's  a  personal  affair  that  I'm 
acquainted  with  Miss  Van  Allen;  and  I  propose  to 
make  more  or  less  effort  to  find  some  trace  of  that 
girl,  and  to  see  if  there  is  any  possible  chance  that 
she  may  not  be  the  guilty  one  after  all." 

"Good  for  you,  Lord  Chesterton!"  cried 
Winnie.  "  I  always  knew  you  were  the  soul  of 
chivalry,  and  now  you're  proving  it !  What  are  you 
going  to  do — to  find  out  things,  I  mean  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  yet,  Win.  But  if  you  want  to 
help  me,  you  can  do  a  lot." 

"  Indeed,  she  won't !  "  declared  Aunt  Lucy.  "If 
you  have  to  do  these  things  as  a  matter  of  business, 
I  can't  object.  But  I  won't  have  Winnie  dragged 
into  it."  » 

"  No  dragging,  Aunt  Lu,  and  nothing  very  des 
perate  for  Winnie  to  do.  But,  I'd  be  jolly  glad  if 
both  of  you  would  just  glance  out  of  the  window 
occasionally  and  see  if  you  see  anything  going  on 
at  the  Van  Allen  house,  that's  all." 

8 


114  VICKY  VAN 

"  Oh,  I'll  do  that !"  Winnie  cried.  "  Nobody  can 
see  me,  I'll  keep  behind  our  curtains,  and  I  can  see 
that  house  perfectly  well." 

"  I  don't  mean  all  the  time,  child.  But  I  do  feel 
sure  that  Vicky  Van  will  come  back  there,  and  if 
you  glance  out  now  and  then,  you  might  see  her  go 
in  or  out." 

"  But  it's  dark,"  said  Aunt  Lucy,  who  was  be 
coming  interested,  in  spite  of  her  scruples. 

"  I  don't  mean  to-night,  or  any  night.  But  in 
the  daytime.  She's  likely  to  come,  if  at  all,  in  broad 
daylight,  I  think." 

"  Aren't  the  police  keeping  guard  on  the  house  ?  " 
inquired  my  aunt. 

"  Only  the  regular  patrolman.  He  passes  it 
every  few  hours,  joggles  the  doorknob,  and  goes  on. 
If  Vicky  is  as  clever  as  I  think  she  is,  she'll  time 
that  policeman,  and  sneak  into  the  house  between 
his  rounds.  It's  only  a  chance,  you  know,  but  you 
might  see  her." 

And  then  I  told  them  all  I  knew  myself  of  the 
whole  affair.  And  seeing  that  I  was  deeply  into  the 
turmoil  of  it  all,  and  had  grave  responsibilities, 
Aunt  Lucy  withdrew  all  objections  and  sympathized 
with  me.  Also,  she  was  impressed  with  my  impor 
tant  business  connections  with  the  Schuyler  family, 
and  was  frankly  curious  about  that  aristocratic 


THE  LETTER-BOX  115 

household.  I  was  asked  over  and  over  again  as  to 
their  mode  of  living,  the  furniture  and  appoint 
ments  of  the  house,  and  the  attitudes  of  the  widow 
and  the  sisters  toward  each  other. 

It  was  late  in  the  evening  before  I  remembered 
some  important  papers  Mr.  Bradbury  had  given  me 
to  hand  to  Mrs.  Schuyler,  and  as  soon  as  I  thought 
of  them  I  telephoned  to  know  if  I  might  then  bring 
them  over. 

"  Yes,"  came  back  Ruth  Schuyler's  soft  voice. 
"  I  wish  you  would.  I  want  to  consult  you  about 
some  other  things  also." 

The  interview  was  less  trying  than  that  of  the 
morning  had  been.  Several  matters  of  inheritance, 
insurance,  and  such  things  were  discussed,  and  Mrs. 
Schuyler  was  more  composed  and  calm. 

She  looked  better,  too,  though  this  was  doubt 
less  due,  in  part,  to  the  fact  that  she  wore  a  white 
house  dress  which  was  far  more  becoming  than 
black  to  her  colorless  face  and  light  hair. 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  said,  at  length,  "  whether 
what  I  want  to  say  should  be  said  to  you  or  to  the 
detective." 

"  Tell  me  first,"  I  said,  "  and  I  may  be  able  to 
advise  you.  In  any  case,  it  will  be  confidential." 

"  You  are  kind,"  she  said,  and  her  grateful  eyes 
smiled  appreciatively.  "  It's  this.  I'd  rather  not 


116  VICKY  VAN 

have  that — that  Miss  Van  Allen  traced,  if  it  can  be 
prevented  in  any  way.  I  have  a  special  reason  for 
this,  which  I  think  I  will  tell  you.  It  is,  that,  on 
thinking  it  over  I  have  become  convinced  that  my 
husband  must  have  known  the  young  woman,  and 
the  acquaintance  was  not  to  his  credit.  For  some 
reason,  I  think,  she  must  have  forbidden  him  the 
house,  and  that  is  why  he  went  there  under  an 
assumed  name.  Mr.  Lowney  succeeded  in  getting 
Mr.  Steele  on  the  long  distance  telephone " 

"Why,  where  is  Steele?" 

"  In  Chicago.  Mr.  Lowney  says  that  he  had  to  go 
there  on  the  midnight  train,  and  that  is  why  he  left 
the  lady's  house — Miss  Van  Allen's  house,  so 
suddenly." 

"  Really  ?  Well,  I  am  surprised.  But,  go  on, 
what  else  did  Steele  say?  " 

"  He  said  that  Mr.  Schuyler  was  with  him  at  the 
club,  and  that  he,  Mr.  Steele,  said  he  was  going  to 
Miss  Van  Allen's  party  and  Mr.  Schuyler  begged 
him  to  take  him  along,  and  introduce  him  as  Mr. 
Somers.  It  seems  he  had  asked  Mr.  Steele  before 
to  do  this,  but  this  time  he  was  more  insistent.  So 
Mr.  Steele  did  it.  Of  course,  Mr.  Calhoun,  I  asked 
Mr.  Lowney  minutely  about  all  this,  because  I  want 
to  know  just  what  circumstances  led  up  to  my  hus 
band's  going  to  that  house." 


THE  LETTER-BOX  117 

"Of  course,  Mrs.  Schuyler,  you  have  every  right 
to  know.  And  did  Steele  say  that  was  Mr.  Schuyler' s 
first  visit  there  or  merely  his  first  visit  as  Mr. 
Somers  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Steele  thought  Mr.  Schuyler  had  never  been 
to  the  house  before  at  all.  But  may  he  not  have 
been  mistaken  ?  May  not  Mr.  Schuyler  have  known 
the  lady  previously — oh,  it  is  such  a  moil !  But,  in 
any  case,  Mr.  Calhoun,  it  seems  to  me  that  further 
probing  and  searching  will  only  pile  up  opprobrium 
on  the  name  of  Schuyler,  and — I  can't  stand  it.  I 
am  so  unused  to  notoriety  or  publicity  I  can't  face 
all  the  unpleasantness  that  must  follow !  Do  help  me 
to  avoid  it,  won't  you?  " 

"  I  certainly  will,  if  I  can.  But  I  fear  you  ask 
the  impossible,  Mrs.  Schuyler.  The  law  will  not  be 
stopped  in  its  course  by  personal  inclinations." 

"  No,  I  suppose  not.    What  is  it,  Tibbetts?  " 

The  last  question  was  addressed  to  her  maid, 
who  appeared  at  the  doorway.  The  sad- faced  woman 
looked  at  her  mistress  with  a  mingled  air  of  defer 
ence  and  commiseration. 

"  The  telephone,  ma'am,"  she  said.  "  I  said  you 
were  busily  engaged,  but  it  is  some  young  woman 
who  begs  to  speak  to  you  a  moment." 

Mrs.  Schuyler  excused  herself  and  left  the  room, 
and  Tibbetts,  smoothing  down  her  trim  white  apron, 
followed. 


118  VICKY  VAN 

"  Another  would-be  secretary,"  my  hostess  said, 
as  she  returned.  "  I  don't  know  how  a  report  that  I 
wanted  one  travelled  so  quickly,  but  I've  had  three 
offered  since  noon." 

"Do  the  Schuyler  ladies  still  object?" 

"  No;  at  least,  they  are  willing.  But  I  don't 
want  any  except  a  capable  one.  Not  so  much  ex 
perienced,  as  quick-witted  and  intelligent.  You  may 
as  well  know,  Mr.  Calhoun,  since  you  are  to  look 
after  my  affairs,  that  my  late  husband  was  of  strictly 
plain  habits.  He  was  almost  frugal  in  his  ideas  of 
how  little  womankind  should  be  indulged  in  any 
luxuries  or  unnecessary  comforts.  This  did  not  in 
commode  his  sisters  for  they  were  of  the  same  mind. 
But  I  desired  certain  things  which  he  saw  fit  to  deny 
me.  I  make  no  complaint,  I  bear  his  memory  no  ill 
will,  but  I  feel  that  now  I  may  have  some  of  these 
things.  I  am  my  own  mistress,  and  while  I  have  no 
wish  to  cast  any  reflection  on  Mr.  Schuyler's  man 
agement  of  his  own  house,  yet,  it  is  now  my  house, 
and  I  must  have  the  privilege  of  ordering  it  as  I 
choose." 

It  had  come  already,  then.  Ruth  Schuyler  and 
her  Puritanical  sisters-in-law  had  met  the  issue,  and 
Ruth  had  stood  up  for  her  rights.  I  felt  that  I  knew 
the  woman  well  enough  to  know  she  would  not  have 
taken  this  stand  so  soon  after  her  husband's  death 


THE.LETTER-BOX  119 

except  that  some  discussion  or  disagreement  had 
made  it  necessary  for  her  to  assert  herself.  I  bowed 
in  acquiescence,  and  said,  "  I  am  sure,  Mrs.  Schuyler, 
there  can  be  no  objection  to  your  doing  exactly  as 
you  please.  This  house  is  entirely  your  own,  half 
Mr.  Schuylers  fortune  is  yours,  and  you  are  re 
sponsible  to  nobody  for  your  actions.  If  not  in 
trusive,  I  will  offer  to  look  you  up  a  suitable  secre 
tary.  I  have  a  young  woman  in  mind,  whom  I  think 
you  would  like." 

"  I  am  not  easy  to  please,"  she  said,  smiling  a 
little;  "  I  have  a  very  definite  idea  of  what  I  want. 
Who  is  your  friend  ?  " 

"  Not  a  friend,  exactly.  An  acquaintance  of  my 
sister's,  who  is  eligible  for  the  post,  if  she  suits  you. 
Shall  I  send  her  round  to  see  you  to-morrow?  " 

"  Yes,  please.  Your  mention  of  her  is  enough 
recommendation.  I  want,  Mr.  Calhoun,  to  do  more 
or  less  charitable  work  this  winter.  That  was 
another  of  Mr.  Schuyler's  whims,  to  attend  to  all 
charities  himself,  and  to  object  to  my  giving  any 
thing  personally.  As  I  shall  be  quiet  and  unoc 
cupied  this  winter,  I  plan  to  do  some  systematic 
work  in  a  benevolent  way.  I  know  this  sounds 
strange  to  you,  that  I  should  be  planning  these  things 
so  soon.  But  the  truth  is,  I  do  plan  them,  purposely, 
because  I  don't  want  to  think  about  the  present 


120  VICKY  VAN 

horror.  I  need  something  to  keep  my  mind  from 
thinking  of  the  awful  tragedy  or  I  shall  go  mad.  It 
seemed  to  me  not  wrong  to  think  about  some  work 
that  should  benefit  others ;  and  to  do  this,  will  give 
me  an  outlet  for  my  energies  and  be  helpful  to  the 
poor  and  suffering." 

Ruth  Schuyler  looked  almost  beautiful  as  her 
face  glowed  with  enthusiasm  on  her  subject.  I 
realized  how  the  nervous,  highstrung  woman  must 
be  torn  with  agony  at  the  revelations  of  her  hus 
band's  defects  and  the  uncertainty  of  his  honor  and 
morality,  and  all  in  addition  to  the  terrible  experi 
ences  she  was  undergoing  and  must  yet  encounter. 

I  went  home  rilled  with  a  desire  to  help  her  in 
every  way  I  could,  and  though  I  went  to  my  room  at 
once,  I  could  not  think  of  sleep.  I  felt  like  planning 
ways  to  put  the  police  off  the  track  or  finding  some 
method  of  making  them  cease  their  hunt  for  Vicky 
Van. 

I  went  down  to  the  library,  and  sat  down  for  a 
smoke  and  a  revery.  And  I  sat  there  until  very  late, 
after  two  o'clock,  in  fact,  without  getting  any  nearer 
a  plan  than  I  was  at  the  start. 

It  was  nearly  three,  when  I  concluded  that  I 
could  sleep  at  last.  I  stood  by  the  front  window  a 
moment,  looking  over  at  Vicky  Van's  house,  across 
the  street,  and  a  few  doors  from  our  own. 


THE  LETTER-BOX  121 

As  I  looked  at  the  darkened  dwelling,  I  saw  the 
front  door  slowly  open.  There  was  no  one  outside, 
it  was  being  opened  from  inside.  As  I  knew  the 
body  of  Mr.  Schuyler  had  been  taken  away,  and  the 
house  had  been  deserted  by  all  who  had  been  there, 
and  that  it  was  in  custody  of  the  police,  I  looked 
curiously  to  see  what  would  happen  next. 

Out  of  the  door  came  a  slight,  small  figure.  It 
was,  I  felt  positive,  Vicky  Van  herself !  I  couldn't 
mistake  that  sleek,  black  head — she  wore  no  hat — or 
those  short,  full  skirts,  that  she  always  wore.  She 
looked  about  cautiously,  and  then  with  swift  motions 
she  unlocked  the  letter-box  that  was  beside  her  front 
door,  took  out  several  letters,  relocked  the  box  and 
slipped  back  into  the  house  again! 

Without  stopping  to  think  I  opened  my  front 
door,  and  flew  across  the  street.  Mounting  her  steps, 
I  rang  the  doorbell  hard.  There  was  no  response, 
and  I  kept  on  ringing — a  veritable  bombardment. 
Then  the  door  opened  a  very  little  bit — I  could  see 
it  was  on  a  night-chain — and  Vicky's  voice  said, 
"  Please  go  away." 

"  No,  I  won't,"  I  said,  "  let  me  come  in." 
"  I  can't  let  you  come  in.    Go  away,  please." 
And  then  the  door  closed,  in  my  very  face,  and 
though  I  pleaded,  "  Vicky,  do  let  me  in!  "  there  was 
no  response. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  SOCIAL  SECRETARY 

I  STOOD  staring  at  the  closed  door.  What  did  it 
mean?  Why  was  Vicky  in  there  and  why  wouldn't 
she  let  me  come  in? 

Then,  as  I  collected  my  wits,  I  laughed  at  my 
self.  I  knew  why  she  was  there — to  get  her  mail. 
Doubtless  there  were  important  letters  that  she  must 
have,  and  she  had  dared  discovery  to  come  at  dead 
of  night  to  get  them.  The  patrolman  was  not  in 
sight.  She  had  looked  out  for  this,  of  course.  It 
was  the  merest  chance  that  I  had  seen  her,  other 
wise  she  would  have  escaped  all  observation.  At 
three  in  the  morning  there  are  almost  no  people 
abroad  in  the  quieter  streets  of  the  city,  and  Vicky 
had  timed  her  visit  well.  Of  co'urse,  she  had  her 
own  keys,  and  I  felt  sure  she  had  stealthily  entered 
at  the  basement  door,  and  waited  her  time  to  secure 
the  letters  from  the  mail-box. 

I  looked  at  the  mail-box,  an  unusual  appendage  to 
a  private  residence,  but  Vicky  was  away  from  home 
so  much,  it  was  doubtless  necessary.  I  tried  to  look 
in  at  a  window,  but  all  shades  were  down  and  there 
were  no  lights  inside.  I  wanted  to  ring  the  doorbell 

122 


THE  SOCIAL  SECRETARY  123 

again,  but  a  sense  of  delicacy  forbade  me.  I  was  not 
a  detective,  and  if  I  persisted,  I  might  attract  the 
attention  of  a  passer-by  or  of  the  returning  police 
man,  and  so  get  Vicky  into  all  sorts  of  trouble.  I 
wasn't  tracking  the  girl  down.  If  she  was  a  criminal, 
let  the  police  find  her,  I  had  no  desire  to  aid 
their  efforts,  but  I  did  want  to  see  Vicky  Van.  I 
wanted  to  offer  her  my  help — not  in  escaping  justice, 
exactly — but  I  wondered  if  I  mightn't  do  some  little 
errands  or  favors  that  would  show  my  friendliness. 

I  went  slowly  toward  home,  when  I  had  an  in 
spiration.  Hastening  into  my  own  house,  I  flew  to 
the  telephone  and  called  Vicky's  number,  which  I 
knew  well. 

"  I  waited  some  time  for  a  response,  but  at  last 
I  heard  Vicky's  voice  say,  "  Who  is  it,  please?  " 

An  impulse  of  protection  for  her,  not  for  myself, 
led  me  to  withhold  my  name.  Nor  did  I  speak  hers. 

I  said,  "  This  is  the  man  who  just  left  your  house. 
I  called  up  to  offer  help,  if  I  can  render  you  any." 

"  That's  good  of  you,"  she  returned,  in  a  heart 
felt  way.  "  I  appreciate  such  kindness,  but  you  can 
do  nothing — nothing,  thank  you." 

"  At  least,  talk  to  me  a  few  minutes.  I'm  so 
anxious  about  you.  You  are  not  implicated  in  the — 
in  the  matter,  are  you?  " 

"  Don't  ask  me,"  she  murmured,  in  such  a  seri- 


124  VICKY  VAN 

ous  voice,  that  my  heart  sank.  "  What  I  did — or 
didn't  do — must  always  remain  a  mystery.  I  cannot 
tell  you — anything.  Don't  ask.  And,  if  you  would 
help  me,  try  your  best  to  have  inquiries  stopped. 
Can  you  do  this  ?  " 

"  I  fear  not.  But  can't  I  see  you — somewhere — 
and  we  can  talk  plainly?  " 

"Do  you  want  to?" 

"  Indeed  I  do." 

"  Then  you  do  believe  in  me?  Do  you  hold  me 
blameless  ?  " 

I  hesitated  at  this.  I  couldn't  lie  to  her,  nor 
could  I  rid  my  mind  of  the  conviction  of  her  guilt. 
I  said,  "  I  will,  if  you  assure  me  that  is  the  truth." 

"  I — I  can't  do  that — good-bye." 

"  Wait  a  minute.  Did  you  know  the  expected 
guest  was  coming  under  an  assumed  name?  " 

"  I  did  not." 

"  Did  you  know  any  Somers  ?  " 

"  No." 

"Did  you  know — the  real  man  ?  " 

"  I  had  met  him  once,  at  a  dance." 

"Did  you  like  him?" 

"  I  neither  liked  nor  disliked.  He  was  an  ob 
ject  of  utter  indifference  to  me." 

"  Then  why  did  you " 

"  Hush !  You  can  never  know.  I  can't  tell 
you " 


THE  SOCIAL  SECRETARY  125 

"  Then  don't.  Please  believe  I  want  to  befriend 
you."  The  agony  and  fear  in  Vicky's  voice  thrilled 
me,  and  I  desired  only  to  shield  and  protect  her. 
She  was  so  young  and  alone. 

"  It  is  good  to  have  a  friendly  voice  speak  to  me. 
But  you  can  only  forget  me." 

"  No,  let  me  do  something  definite.  Some  errand 
of  trust,  some  matter  of  confidence " 

"  Do  you  mean  it?    Will  you?  " 

"Gladly!    What  is  it?" 

"  Then  if  you  will  collect  my  mail  from  the  box 
at  the  door,  after  a  few  days — say,  three  days — and 
put  it  aside  for  me.  You  saw  me  get  it  to-night,  I 
suppose,  and  it  is  a  dangerous  thing  for  me  to  do." 

"  Where  are  you — I  mean,  where  are  you 
staying?  " 

"  Don't  ask.  I  am  safe.  I  see  the  newspapers 
and  I  know  I  am  to  be  hunted  down.  So  I  must 
hide.  I  cannot  face  the  inquiries — I  fear  arrest  and 
— and  punishment " 

Her  tones  betrayed  guilty  fear,  and  I  shuddered 
at  the  confirmation  of  my  suspicions.  But  I  would 
do  what  I  could  for  her. 

"  How  shall  I  get  your  letters?  "  I  asked,  and  I 
honestly  tried  not  to  disclose  my  sudden  knowledge 
of  her  guilt  But  her  quick  ears  caught  my  changed 
inflection. 


126  VICKY  VAN 

"  You  believe  me  guilty !  "  she  said,  and  she 
stifled  a  sob.  "  Yet,  still,  you  will  help  me !  God 
bless  you!  Listen,  then,  for  I  must  stop  this  talk 
ing,  it  is  too  desperately  dangerous.  I  will  leave  the 
key  of  the  mail  box — no,  I  will  send  it  to  you  by 
mail,  that  will  be  the  safest.  Then  will  you  get  the 
letters  and  put  them — where  shall  I  say?  " 

"  I'll  mail  them  to  you." 

"  No,  that  would  never  do.  You  can  get  into 
this  house,  can't  you?  The  police  will  let  you  in  at 
any  time?  " 

"  Yes,  I  can  probably  manage  that." 

"  Then  bring  them  with  you,  all  of  the  three  days' 
mail  at  once,  you  understand,  and  put  them  in  that 
great  Chinese  jar,  in  the  music  room.  The  one  with 
the  gold  dragon  on  the  cover.  No  one  will  look 
there  for  them.  I  will  manage  to  come  and  get  them 
very  soon.  Please  don't  spy  on  me,  will  you, 
Chester?" 

The  use  of  my  first  name  was,  I  knew,  inadvert 
ent  and  unconscious.  It  thrilled  me.  There  was  a 
marvellous  fascination  always  about  Vicky  Van, 
and  now,  at  the  end  of  this  my  mysterious  night  tele 
phone  conversation,  I  felt  its  thrill  and  I  agreed  to 
her  plea. 

"  No,  dear,"  I  said,  and  not  till  afterward  did  I 
realize  the  term  I  had  used,  "  I  will  not  spy.  But 


THE  SOCIAL  SECRETARY  127 

promise  me  that  you  will  call  on  me  for  any  help 
you  may  need.  And  tell  me — are  you  alone  or  is 
Julie  with  you?  " 

"  Julie  is  with  me,"  she  returned.  "  She  helps 
protect  me,  and  with  your  friendship,  too,  I  am 
blessed  indeed.  But  this  is  good-bye.  I  shall  leave 
New  York  in  a  few  days  never  to  return.  I  must 
have  that  mail,  or  I  would  go  at  once.  If  you  will 
help  me  get  that,  you  will  do  all  there  is  left  for  any 
one  to  do  for  me  in  the  world." 

Her  tone  frightened  me.  "  Vicky !  "  I  cried,  for 
getting  all  caution.  "  Don't — my  dear,  don't — — 
but  I  could  not  put  in  words  the  fear  that  had  sud 
denly  come  to  me,  and  even  as  I  stammered  for 
speech,  the  click  came  that  told  me  she  had  hung 
up  the  receiver. 

I  cursed  myself  for  my  stupidity  in  speaking  her 
name.  Such  a  blunder!  Why,  it  might  have 
been  overheard  by  anybody  on  the  line.  No  wonder 
she  left  me.  Doubtless  I  had  driven  her  from  her 
house. 

I  flew  to  the  window.  Then  I  remembered  I  had 
promised  not  to  spy,  and  I  turned  quickly  away. 
If  she  were  about  to  disappear  silently  and  stealthily 
from  that  house,  I  must  not  know  it. 

I  went  to  my  room,  but  not  to  sleep.     Clearly,  I 


128  VICKY  VAN 

was  not  to  know  untroubled  slumber  again  very  soon. 
I  sat  up  and  thought  it  all  over. 

How  strange  that  I  should  have  "  spied  "  on  her 
just  at  the  moment  she  was  secretly  getting  her  let 
ters.  But,  I  realized,  I  had  looked  at  the  house  so 
often  it  would  be  stranger  still  if  I  had  missed  her! 

And  she  was  to  send  me  her  box  key,  and  I 
was  to  secrete  her  letters  for  her.  Important  in 
deed,  those  letters  must  be,  that  she  should  go  to 
such  lengths  to  get  them.  Well,  I  had  constituted 
myself  her  knight  errant  in  that  particular,  and  I 
would  fulfil  the  trust. 

Beneath  the  thrilling  excitement  of  the  night's 
occurrence,  I  felt  a  dull,  sad  foreboding.  All  Vicky 
had  said  or  done  pointed  to  guilt.  Had  she  been  in 
nocent,  she  would  have  told  me  so,  by  word  or  by 
implication.  She  would  have  given  me  a  tacit  assur 
ance  of  her  guiltlessness,  or  would  have  cried  out  at 
the  injustice  of  suspicion. 

But  none  of  these  things  entered  into  her  talk, 
or  even  into  her  voice  or  intonations.  She  had 
sounded  sad,  hopeless,  despairing.  And  her  last 
words  made  me  fear  she  contemplated  taking  her 
own  life. 

Poor  little  Vicky  Van.  Light-hearted,  joy-lov 
ing  Vicky.  What  was  the  mystery  back  of  it  all? 
What  could  it  be?  Well,  at  least,  I  would  scrupu- 


THE  SOCIAL  SECRETARY  129 

lously  perform  the  task  she  had  set  me,  and  I  would 
do  it  well.  I  knew  I  could  manage  to  get  into  the 
house  by  making  up  some  story  for  the  police.  But 
I  must  wait  for  the  promised  key. 

With  a  glimmer  of  hope  that  the  mailed  parcel 
containing  the  key  might  give  me  a  clue  to  Vicky's 
whereabouts,  I  at  last  went  to  sleep. 

Next  morning  at  breakfast  I  said  nothing  of  my 
night  experiences.  I  told  Winnie,  however,  that  she 
needn't  watch  the  Van  Allen  house,  as  I  had  heard 
that  Vicky  had  left  it  permanently. 

"  However  could  you  hear  that?  "  exclaimed  my 
wideawake  sister.  "  Have  you  had  a  wireless  from 
the  fugitive?  " 

"Something  of  the  sort,"  I  said,  smilingly.  "And 
now,  listen  here,  Win.  How  do  you  think  that  friend 
of  yours,  Miss  Crowell,  would  like  to  be  a  social 
secretary  for  Mrs.  Schuyler  ?  " 

"  She'd  love  it !  "  cried  Winnie.  "  Does  Mrs. 
Schuyler  want  one?  " 

"  Yes,  and  she  wants  her  mighty  quick.  From 
what  you've  said  of  the  Crowell  girl,  I  should  think 
she'd  be  just  the  one.  Can  you  get  her  on  the 
telephone?  " 

"  Yes,  but  not  so  early  as  this.  I'll  call  her 
about  ten." 

"  All  right,  you  fix  it  up.    I  expect  Mrs.  Schuyler 

9 


130  VICKY  VAN 

will  pay  proper  salary  to  the  right  secretary  Of 
course,  Miss  Crowell  is  experienced?" 

"  Oh,  yes/'  assured  Win,  and  I'm  sure  she'll  love 
to  go.  Why,  any  secretary  would  be  glad  to  go 
there." 

"  Not  just  now,"  I  should  think,"  observed  Aunt 
Lucy.  '  The  amount  of  work  there  must  be  some 
thing  fearful." 

"  It  will  be  heavy,  for  a  time,"  I  agreed,  "  but 
it  is  only  for  Mrs.  Schuyler's  personal  correspond 
ence  and  business.  I  mean,  the  other  two  ladies 
would  not  expect  to  use  her  services." 

"  All  right,"  said  Winnie,  "  I'll  fix  it  up  with 
Edith  Crowell,  and  if  she  can't  go,  I'll  ask  her 
to  recommend  somebody.  Shall  I  send  her  there 
to-day?" 

"  Yes,  as  soon  as  she  will  go.  And  let  me  know 
— telephone  the  office  about  noon." 

"  Yep,"  Winnie  promised,  and  I  went  away,  my 
head  in  a  whirl  with  the  various  and  sundry  matters 
I  had  to  attend  to. 

I  don't  think  I  thought  of  the  secretary  matter 
again,  until  at  noon,  Winnie  telephoned  me  that  it 
was  all  right.  I  thanked  her,  and  promptly  forgot 
the  episode. 

And  so  it  was,  that  when  I  reached  home  that 
night,  I  had  one  of  the  surprises  of  my  life. 


THE  SOCIAL  SECRETARY  131 

Winnie  came  to  dinner,  smiling,  and  rather  ex 
cited-looking. 

"  What's  up,  Infant?  "  I  asked.  "  Have  you  ac 
cepted  a  proposal  from  a  nice  college  lad  ?  " 

"  Huh !  "  and  Win's  head  tossed.  "  I  guess  you'll 
open  your  eyes  when  I  tell  you  what  I  have 
accepted !  " 

'  Tell  it  out,  Angel  Child.  Relieve  your  own 
impatience." 

"  Well,  if  you  please,  I  have  accepted  the  post  of 
social  secretary  to  Mrs.  Randolph  Schuyler." 

"  Winifred  Elizabeth  Calhoun!    You  haven't!  " 

"  I  thought  I'd  arouse  some  slight  interest,"  she 
said,  and  she  calmly  went  on  with  her  dinner. 

I  looked  at  Aunt  Lucy,  who  sat  with  a  resigned 
expression,  toying  with  her  unused  oyster-fork. 

"  What  does  she  mean  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  She  has  done  just  what  she  says,"  replied  Aunt 
Lucy.  "  But  only  for  a  few  days.  Miss  Crowell 


"  Let  me  tell !  "  interrupted  Winnie.  "  It's  my 
party !  You  see,  Chet,  Edith  Crowell  is  wild  to  have 
the  place,  and  is  going  to  take  it,  but  she  can't  go 
until  the  first  of  next  week.  And  she  doesn't  v/ant 
to  lose  the  chance,  so  I  went  over  and  told  Mrs. 
Schuyler  about  it.  And  then  as  she  was  simply 


132  VICKY  VAN 

swamped  with  letters  and  telegrams  and  telephones 
and  callers,  and  goodness  knows  what  all,  I  offered 
to  help  her  out  till  Edith  can  get  there.  And  she 
was  so  grateful — oh,  I  think  she  is  a  darling.  I 
never  saw  anyone  I  liked  and  admired  so  much  at 
first  sight." 

"  She  is  charming,"  I  conceded,  "but  what  a 
crazy  scheme,  Win!  How  did  you  persuade  Aunt 
Lucy  to  agree  ?  " 

"  I  managed  her,"  and  Winnie  bobbed  her  wise 
young  head,  cannily. 

It  came  to  me  in  a  moment.  Though  not  exactly 
a  tuft  hunter,  Aunt  Lucy  was  deeply  impressed  by 
real  grandeur  and  elegance.  And  it  came  to  me  at 
once,  that  Winnie's  tales  of  the  great  house  and  the 
aristocratic  people,  had  a  strong  influence  on  our 
aunt's  views  and  had  brought  about  her  permission 
for  Win  to  go  there  for  a  few  days.  And  it  was  no 
harm.  It  wasn't  as  if  Winnie  were  a  regular  secre 
tary,  but  just  to  hold  the  place  for  Miss  Crowell, 
was  simply  a  kindly  deed. 

And  so,  after  dinner,  I  settled  myself  in  our  cosy 
library  for  a  comfortable  smoke,  and  bade  Winnie 
tell  me  every  single  thing  that  had  happened  through 
the  day. 

"Oh,    it    was    thrilling!"    Winnie    exclaimed. 


"  Part  of  the  time  I  was  at  the  desk  in  the  library, 
and  part  of  the  time  upstairs  in  Mrs.  Schuyler's  very 
own  room.  She  was  so  kind  to  me,  but  she  is  nearly 
distracted  and  I  don't  wonder!  The  undertakers' 
men  were  in  and  out,  and  those  two  old  maids — his 
sisters,  you  know — were  everlastingly  appearing  and 
disappearing.  And  they  don't  like  Mrs.  Schuyler 
an  awful  lot,  nor  she  them.  Oh,  they're  polite  and 
all  that,  but  you  can  see  they're  of  totally  different 
types.  I  like  Mrs.  Schuyler  heaps  better,  but  still, 
there's  something  about  the  old  girls  that's  the  real 
thing.  They're  Schuylers  and  also  they're  Salton- 
stalls,  and  farther  back,  I  believe  they're  Cabots  or 
something." 

"  And  Mrs.  Schuyler,  what  is  she  ?  "  I  asked,  as 
Win  paused  for  breath. 

"  I  don't  know.  Nothing  particular,  I  guess. 
Oh,  yes,  I  learned  her  name  was  Ellison  before  she 
was  married,  but  the  sisters  don't  consult  her  about 
family  matters  at  all.  They  do  about  clothes, 
though.  And  she  knows  a  lot.  Why,  Chess,  she's 
having  the  lovelist  things  made,  if  they  are  mourn 
ing,  and  the  sisters,  they  ask  her  about  everything 
they  order — to  wear,  I  mean.  And,  just  think! 
Mrs.  Schuyler  never  wears  any  jewels  but  pearls! 
It's  a  whim,  you  know,  or  it  was  her  husband's 


134  VICKY  VAN 

whim,  or  something,  but  anyway,  she  has  oceans  of 
pearls,  and  no  other  gems  at  all." 

"Did  she  tell  you  so?" 

"  Yes ;  but  it  came  in  the  conversation,  you  know. 
She  is  no  boaster.  No  sir-ee !  She's  the  modestest, 
gentlest,  sweetest  little  lady  I  ever  saw.  I  just  love 
her!  Well,  I  answered  a  lot  of  letters  for  her,  and 
she  liked  the  way  I  did  it,  and  she  liked  me,  I  guess, 
for  she  said  she  only  hoped  Miss  Crowell  would 
suit  her  as  well." 

"  She  knows  you're  my  sister?  " 

"  Of  course.  But  that  isn't  why  she  likes  me, 
old  bunch  of  conceit!  Though,  I  must  admit,  she 
likes  you,  Chet.  She  said  you  were  not  only  kind, 
but  you  have  a  fair  amount  of  intelligence — no,  she 
didn't  use  those  words,  exactly,  but  I  gathered  that 
was  what  she  meant.  The  funeral  is  to  be  to 
morrow  evening,  you  know.  I  had  to  write  and 
telephone  quite  a  good  deal  about  that,  though  the 
sisters  tended  to  it  mostly." 

"  Was  there  much  said  about — about  the  actual 
case — Winnie?  " 

"You  mean  about  the  murder?"  Win's  clear 
eyes  didn't  blink  at  the  word ;  "  no,  not  much  in  my 
hearing.  But  Mrs.  Schuyler  wasn't  in  the  room  all 
the  time.  And  I  know  Mr.  Lowney — isn't  he  the 
detective  ? — was  there  once,  and  I  think,  twice." 


THE  SOCIAL  SECRETARY  135 

"  Did  you  see  anyone  else  ?  " 

"  Only  some  of  the  servants.  Mrs.  Schuyler's 
own  maid,  her  name  is  Tibbetts,  is  the  sort  you  read 
about  in  English  novels.  A  nice,  motherly  woman, 
with  gray  hair  and  a  black  silk  apron.  I  liked  her, 
but  the  maid  who  looks  after  the  old  sisters,  I 
didn't  like  so  well." 

"  Never  mind  the  maids,  tell  me  more  about  Mrs. 
Schuyler.  Does  she  think  Vicky  Van  killed  Mr. 
Schuyler?  Since  you're  in  this  thing  so  deep  Win, 
there's  no  use  mincing  matters." 

"  I  should  say  not !  Yes,  of  course,  she  thinks 
the  Vicky  person  did  the  killing.  How  could  she 
think  anything  else  ?  And  the  two  sisters  are  madly 
revengeful.  As  soon  as  the  funeral  is  over,  they're 
going  to  work  to  find  that  girl  and  bring  her  to 
justice !  They  say  the  inquest  will  help  a  lot.  When 
will  that  be,  Chess  ?  Can  I  go  to  it  ?  " 

"  No,  of  course  not,  Winnie?  "  This  from  Aunt 
Lucy.  "  It's  one  thing  for  you  to  help  Mrs. 
Schuyler  out  in  an  emergency,  but  you're  not  to 
get  mixed  up  in  a  murder  trial !  " 

"  An  inquest  isn't  a  trial,  Auntie,"  and  Win 
looked  like  a  wise  owl,  as  she  aired  her  new  and 
suddenly  acquired  knowledge.  "  Can't  I  go,  Chess  ?  " 

"  We'll  see,  Infant.     Perhaps,  if  Mrs.  Schuyler 


136  VICKY  VAN 

needs  your  services  she  may  want  you  there  with 
her." 

"  Oh,  in  that  case —  "  began  Aunt  Lucy,  but 
Winnie  was  off  again  on  one  of  her  enthusiastic 
descriptions  of  the  grand  ways  of  the  Schuyler  house 
hold,  and  Aunt  Lucy  was  quite  willing  to  listen. 

As  for  me,  I  wanted  the  benefit  of  every  possible 
sidelight  on  the  whole  business,  and  I,  too,  took  in 
all  Winnie's  detailed  narrations. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  INQUEST 

THE  inquest  was  in  progress.  In  the  coroner's 
courtroom  inquiry  was  being  made  in  an  endeavor 
to  discover  who  was  responsible  for  the  death  of 
Randolph  Schuyler.  The  funeral  of  the  millionaire 
had  taken  place,  and  the  will  had  been  read,  and 
now  the  public  awaited  news  of  the  action  of  the 
police  in  placing  the  crime  and  producing  the 
criminal. 

The  case  had  become  a  celebrated  one,  not  only 
because  of  the  prominence  of  the  victim,  but  be 
cause  of  the  mystery  surrounding  the  young  woman 
suspected  of  the  deed  of  murder. 

Many  voluntary  witnesses  had  come  forward 
with  additional  information  regarding  Victoria  Van 
Allen,  but  none  of  these  knew  anything  more  of 
her  relatives  or  progenitors  than  I  did  myself. 

Some  of  these  were  asked  to  testify  at  the  in 
quest,  but  more  were  not  so  called  on,  as  their  testi 
mony  was  in  no  way  material  or  vital. 

I  did  not  propose  to  attend  all  the  sessions,  my 
self,  but  I  wanted  to  hear  the  opening  queries  and 
learn  just  how  the  case  was  to  be  managed. 

137 


138  VICKY  VAN 

Doctor  Remson  told  of  his  examination  of  Mr. 
Schuyler's  body  and  testified  that  death  was  prac 
tically  instantaneous  as  a  result  of  a  single  stab  of 
the  short,  sharp  knife.  The  knife  was  produced  and 
identified.  It  had  been  carefully  taken  care  of  and 
had  been  photographed  to  preserve  the  faint  finger 
marks,  which  were  on  its  handle,  and  which  might 
or  might  not  be  the  prints  of  the  murderer's  fingers. 

The  caterer  Fraschini  told  of  his  orders  for  the 
party  supper,  and  of  the  sending  of  his  best  and  most 
faithful  waiters  to  attend  to  the  feast. 

Luigi,  the  head  waiter,  again  went  over  his  story. 
I  had  heard  this  twice  before,  but  I  listened  with 
deep  interest,  and  I  realized,  that,  granting  the  truth 
of  his  recital,  there  was  no  room  for  doubt  of  Vicky 
Van's  guilt. 

I  hadn't  of  course,  told  of  seeing  her  take  her 
mail  from  the  box  that  night,  nor  of  her  talking  to 
me  over  the  telephone.  Should  absolute  law  and 
justice  call  for  that  information,  I  might  give  it  up, 
but  at  present,  I  was  awaiting  developments. 

Vicky  had  sent  me  her  mailbox  key,  and  I  had 
received  it  duly,  by  mail.  It  was  not  sent  by  parcel 
post,  nor  was  it  registered — these  would  have  called 
for  the  sender's  address — but,  sent  by  ordinary  first- 
class  letter  post,  the  flat  little  key  came  duly  and 
promptly. 


THE  INQUEST  139 

I  had  not  used  it  yet,  the  time  was  not  ripe  until 
that  same  night,  and  I  intended  to  say  nothing  of  it, 
until  I  had  fulfilled  my  promise,  if,  indeed,  I  ever 
told  of  it. 

But  Luigi's  story  as  I  heard  it  again  made  me 
shiver  with  apprehension.  Surely,  since  he  saw 
Vicky  right  there  at  the  moment,  bending  over  the 
victim,  blood  stains  on  her  gown,  there  could  be  no 
loophole  of  innocence.  Had  the  murderer  been  some 
one  else,  and  had  Vicky  known  it,  she  must  have 
made  an  outcry — must  have  accused  the  guilty  party. 
There  was  no  one  whom  Vicky  loved  well  enough 
to  wish  to  shield.  And,  too,  the  guests  were  all  in 
the  big  living-room ;  there  was  no  one  unaccounted 
for.  If  Luigi  himself,  or  any  of  the  caterer's  men 
had  by  chance  done  the  deed,  Vicky  wouldn't  have 
run  away!  There  was  no  sense  in  that.  So  I 
could  see  no  possible  theory  but  that  of  Vicky's 
actual  guilt.  Why  she  did  it,  was  another  story. 
She  may  have  known  Schuyler  before,  might  have 
known  him  a  long  time,  might  have  had  her  own 
reasons  for  wishing  him  dead ;  but  all  that  was  out 
side  the  issue  of  her  criminality.  There  was  no  eye 
witness  of  the  stabbing  itself,  but  Luigi's  presence 
on  the  scene  an  instant  later,  left  no  room  for  ques 
tion  as  to  the  hand  that  had  held  the  knife. 

The   jury   seemed   to   think  this.     Gravely  the 


140  VICKY  VAN 

men  listened  to  what  the  Italian  told,  and  their  faces 
showed  what  they  believed. 

Then  came  the  guests  of  the  party.  One  after 
another,  they  told  the  same  story.  All  knew  Vicky 
fairly  well,  as  a  pleasant  acquaintance ;  all  liked  her 
as  a  good  friend;  all  enjoyed  her  as  a  delightful 
hostess;  and  many  told  individual  instances  of 
Vicky's  kind  heart  and  helping  hand.  Not  infre 
quently  had  she  lent  assistance,  both  financial  and 
in  other  ways,  to  these  friends  of  hers.  Never,  they 
all  said,  had  they  known  her  to  do  a  mean  or  de 
ceitful  act  or  to  say  an  unkind  or  malicious  word. 

The  men  spoke  of  her  as  a  gay,  light-hearted 
butterfly  girl,  who  was  a  coquette,  but  who  stopped 
short  of  a  real  flirtation;  the  women  gave  her  such 
commendation  as  is  rarely  given  them  to  their  own 
sex,  and  declared  that  Miss  Van  Allen  was  a  simple, 
kindly,  generous  nature  without  a  trace  of  the  dis 
position  which  causes  a  woman  to  be  dubbed  a  cat. 

Norman  Steele  was  present.  He  explained  his 
sudden  departure  from  the  party  by  the  fact  that  he 
had  to  catch  an  owl  train  for  Chicago.  He  said, 
further,  that  Randolph  Schuyler  had  asked  him  to 
take  him  around  to  Vicky  Van's,  as  he  wanted  to 
meet  her.  But  he  had  asked  Steele,  especially,  to 
introduce  him  as  Mr.  Somers.  He  had  given  no 
reason  for  this,  and  Steele  had  thought  little  of  it. 


THE  INQUEST  141 

Randolph  Schuyler  was  a  man  whom  his  friends 
obeyed,  often  without  question.  I  understood  this. 
Steele  was  no  more  of  a  toady  to  the  millionaire  than 
most  men  would  be;  but  a  request  of  Randolph 
Schuyler's  was  not  to  be  thoughtlessly  refused,  so 
Steele  acquiesced. 

He  was  reticent  in  further  dilating  on  Schuyler's 
character.  Said  he  often  called  on  ladies  who  could 
not  be  called  exclusive,  but  denied  knowledge  of 
definite  cases  or  names. 

On  the  whole,  Steele's  evidence  didn't  get  us 
anywhere.  We  already  knew  that  Schuyler  had 
gone  to  Vicky  Van's  under  an  assumed  name.  The 
reason  for  this  had  little,  if  anything,  to  do  with 
what  had  followed.  A  connection  of  some  sort,  be 
tween  Vicky  and  Mr.  Schuyler  must  be  traced,  in 
order  to  arrive  at  her  possible  motive.  A  woman 
does  not  stab  to  kill  a  chance  guest  whom  she  has 
never  met  before! 

Bert  Garrison  came  next.  His  talk  ran  mostly 
to  eulogies  of  Vicky.  The  poor  fellow  was  dead  in 
love  with  her,  and  had  been  for  man.y  moons,  but 
though  Vicky  favored  him  more  than  some  others, 
yet  she  gave  him  no  definite  encouragement,  as  he 
himself  ruefully  admitted.  But  he  made  a  desper 
ate  effort  to  show  that  a  girl  of  Victoria  Van  Allen's 


142  VICKY  VAN 

high  character  and  fine  qualities  would  be  incapable 
of  a  base  deed. 

The  coroner  smiled  a  little  at  Garrison's  vehem 
ence,  and  let  him  run  on  for  a  time,  in  praise  of  the 
absent  Vicky. 

At  last,  he  said,  "  And,  why,  then,  Mr.  Garrison, 
in  your  opinion  has  Miss  Van  Allen  disappeared?  " 

"  The  disappearance  is  not  of  her  own  volition," 
declared  Garrison;  "she  has  been  taken  away  by 
somebody  and  held  against  her  will,  in  order  to 
make  her  appear  guilty." 

This  was  a  new  theory.  I  might  have  given  it 
serious  consideration  had  I  not  had  speech  with  the 
girl  herself.  It  couldn't  be  that  Vicky  was  held 
captive,  since  she  was  at  her  own  house  two  nights 
after  the  crime.  But  I  could  see  that  the  jury,  and 
even  the  coroner  and  detectives  were  interested  in 
this  idea. 

"  By  whom  could  she  possibly,  or  theoretically, 
he  thus  held  ?  "  the  coroner  asked. 

"  I  don't  know.  But  assuming  some  intruder 
effected  an  entrance  and  stabbed  Mr.  Schuyler,  if 
surprised  during  or  after  the  act  by  the  sudden  ap 
pearance  of  Miss  Van  Allen  in  the  dining  room,  he 
might  in  some  way  have  gotten  her  out  of  the 
house,  and  still  be  keeping  her  in  a  hiding-place." 

It  was  perhaps,  a  possibility,  but  I  didn't  see  how 


THE  INQUEST  143 

any  intruder  could  do  all  that,  without  being  seen 
by  the  waiters.  Unless,  perchance,  the  waiters  had 
been  bribed  to  silence.  And  that,  in  the  face  of 
Luigi's  earnest,  and  convincing  testimony,  I  could 
not  believe. 

It  was  a  fantastic  theory,  evolved  in  the  brain 
of  Garrison,  for  the  purpose  of  diverting  suspicion 
from  Vicky  Van.  However,  it  seemed  to  impress 
the  coroner,  and  he  made  notes  as  he  dismissed  the 
witness. 

Cassie  Weldon  added  one  bit  of  new  informa 
tion.  She  said,  though  with  evident  reluctance,  that 
she  had  caught  a  mere  glimpse  of  somebody  running 
upstairs,  just  before  the  waiter  had  come  to  call  for 
help. 

Cassie  had  not  wanted  to  testify  at  all.  As  she 
had  intimated  to  me,  it  was  detrimental  to  her  work 
as  a  concert  singer  to  be  mixed  up  in  this  affair. 
But  since  she  had  to  give  her  testimony,  she  appar 
ently  felt  it  her  duty  to  tell  the  whole  truth. 

"  How  could  you  see  the  stairs  from  the  living- 
room?"  asked  the  interested  coroner. 

"  I  was  near  the  door,  and  though  I  was  not 
looking  out  into  the  hall,  I  had  a  vague,  fleeting  im 
pression  of  somebody  running  upstairs.  I  paid  no 
attention  to  it,  of  course,  but  I  am  sure  somebody 
did." 

"  A  man  or  a  woman?  " 


144  VICKY  VAN 

"  A  woman.  That  is,  I  was  conscious  of  a 
flutter  of  skirts,  but  I  am  not  sure  it  was  Miss  Van 
Allen.  I  didn't  see  her  clearly  enough  even  to  notice 
the  color  of  her  gown.  It  was  merely  a  glimpse  of 
some  one  flying  round  the  newel  post  and  up  the 
stairs.  It  might  have  been  a  stranger." 

"  You  mean,  if  there  were  some  intruder,  it  may 
have  been  a  woman,  and  not  a  man?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  I  tell  you.  I  can  only  say  I 
know  somebody  ran  upstairs.  Further  than  that, 
I've  no  idea  concerning  it." 

"  It  must  have  been  Miss  Van  Allen,"  said  the 
coroner,  decidedly;  "  had  it  been  any  other  woman, 
and  had  she  stabbed  Mr.  Schuyler,  Miss  Van  Allen 
would  not  have  disappeared.  Now,  if  this  woman 
who  ran  upstairs  was  Miss  Van  Allen,  she  effected 
an  escape  from  the  upper  stories.  Is  there  a  sky 
light  exit?" 

No  one  seemed  to  know,  as  no  one  had  thought 
of  Vicky  Van  leaving  her  house  by  such  means. 

But  to  me,  the  idea  was  ridiculous.  A  girl,  in 
elaborate  evening  gown,  clambering  out  of  a  sky 
light  trap-door,  to  where  ?  Not  to  a  neighbor's,  for 
Vicky  Van  knew  none  of  the  nearby  residents.  I 
had  heard  her  say  so,  myself.  And  had  she  de 
scended  into  a  strange  household,  and  begged  for 
shelter,  it  would  have  become  known  before  this. 


THE  INQUEST  145 

Well,  anyway,  the  detective  Lowney  immediately 
sent  an  order  to  have  the  skylight  matter  looked  into, 
and  the  proceedings  went  on. 

Ariadne  Gale  was  closely  questioned  as  to  how 
she  knew  of  the  picture  in  the  back  of  Randolph 
Schuyler's  watch.  But  she  declared  that  he  had 
shown  it  to  her  during  their  conversation  that 
evening. 

"  I  never  saw  the  man  before,"  said  Ariadne,  who 
unlike  Cassie  Weldon,  rather  enjoyed  the  publicity 
of  the  occasion.  "  I  chanced  to  be  about  the  first 
girl  he  was  introduced  to,  when  he  came  into  the 
house.  And  we  had  a  chat,  and  when  I  chaffed  him 
a  bit  on  his  dignity  and  awe-inspiring  presence,  he  re 
futed  it  by  showing  me  the  picture  in  his  watch. 
He  said  it  was  a  little  chorus  girl  he  had  taken  out 
to  supper  the  night  before.  I  could  see  the  picture 
had  been  merely  tucked  in  temporarily,  it  wasn't 
neatly  pasted  in,  as  a  watch-case  picture  usually  is, 
and  then  I  chaffed  him  on  his  fickleness.  Our  con 
versation  was  the  merest  foolery,  and  a  moment 
after,  he  went  over  to  be  presented  to  Miss  Van 
Allen." 

"  You  think  they  had  never  met  before?  " 

"I'm  sure  they  had  not.  They  looked  at  each 
other  with  the  conventional  politeness  of  strangers. 
I  know  Miss  Van  Allen  well,  and  she  is  not  one  to 

10 


146  VICKY  VAN 

dissemble  or  pretend.  I  am  sure  she  had  never 
laid  eyes  on  that  man  before.  She  simply  couldn't 
have  killed  him !  " 

Ariadne's  further  evidence  amounted  to  nothing, 
nor  did  that  of  several  other  of  the  party  guests 
who  were  called  on. 

Except  Mrs.  Reeves.  She  knew  more  of  Vicky's 
home  life  than  any  of  the  rest  of  us,  but  even  she 
knew  nothing  of  the  girl's  origin. 

She  had  first  met  her  at  one  of  Miss  Gale's 
studio  parties,  and  had  taken  a  fancy  to  her  at  once. 

"  Where  did  you  first  meet  her,  Miss  Gale,"  the 
coroner  interrupted  to  ask. 

"  She  came  to  my  studio  to  look  at  my  pictures," 
was  the  reply.  "  She  admired  them,  and  bought  one. 
She  was  so  pleasant  and  so  interested  in  my  work 
that  she  came  two  or  three  times,  and  then  I  invited 
her  to  one  of  my  little  studio  affairs.  She  quickly 
made  friends,  and  she  invited  us  to  her  house.  I 
went  there  first  about  two  years  ago." 

"  So  did  I,"  Mrs.  Reeves  resumed.  "  And  since 
then,  I  have  been  there  frequently,  and  every  time 
I  saw  the  girl  I  liked  her  better.  But  she  was  always 
a  bit  of  a  mystery.  I  confess  I  tried  at  times,  to 
learn  something  of  her  previous  life.  But  she 
adroitly  evaded  my  questions,  and  cleverly  changed 
the  subject.  I  think,  however,  from  chance  hints 


THE  INQUEST  147 

she  let  drop,  that  her  home  was  somewhere  in  the 
Middle  West." 

"  An  indefinite  term,"  observed  Coroner  Fenn. 

"  It's  all  I  know." 

"  Where  did  Miss  Van  Allen  go  on  her  frequent 
absences  from  her  home  ?  " 

"  That  I  don't  know,  either.  Often  she'd  be 
away  a  week,  and  on  her  return  would  tell  of  a  gay 
house  party  down  on  Long  Island  or  a  week-end 
trip  up  Westchester  way,  but  I  don't  remember  any 
definite  place  she  visited." 

"  I  do,"  piped  up  Ariadne.  "  She  often  goes  to 
Greenwich,  Connecticut,  and  to  Bronxville.  I've 
heard  her  tell  of  these  trips.  She  has  a  wide  circle 
of  acquaintances  and,  of  course,  she's  a  favorite  with 
all  who  know  her." 

"  I  have  a  piece  of  evidence,"  resumed  Mrs. 
Reeves,  "  which  I  daresay  I  ought  to  exhibit.  It  is 
a  letter  from  Miss  Van  Allen,  which  I  received  only 
this  morning." 

This  caused  a  sensation.  A  letter  from  Vicky 
Van!  Just  received!  I  found  myself  trembling 
in  my  shoes.  And  I  asked  myself  why.  Was  I 
afraid  the  girl  would  be  caught?  Did  I  want  to 
shield  a  felon?  And  I  had  to  admit  to  myself  that  I 
did.  I  wasn't  in  love  with  Vicky  Van,  but  I  had  a 
tremendous  interest  in  her,  and  I  didn't  want  that 


148  VICKY  VAN 

little  lone,  helpless  person  haled  before  a  court  of 
justice.  Vicky  did  seem  terribly  alone.  Hosts  of 
friends  she  had,  but  no  one  who  was  in  any  way  re 
sponsible  for  her,  or  in  a  position  to  help  her.  Well, 
if  she  ever  returned,  voluntarily  or  perforce,  she 
would  find  a  friend  and  champion  in  one  Chester 
Calhoun,  of  that  I  was  certain ! 

Mrs.  Reeves  handed  her  letter  over  to  the  cor 
oner,  and  he  read  it  out.  It  ran : 

MY  DEAR  MRS.  REEVES  : 

You  have  always  been  such  a  good  friend  to  me  that  I'm 
writing  you  just  a  line.  You  are  everything  that  is  good  and 
kind,  and  now  I'm  going  to  ask  you  as  a  final  favor  to  forget 
Vicky  Van  at  once  and  forever.  I  am  going  away  and  I  shall 
never  return.  Don't  think  of  me  any  more  hardly  than  you 
must,  but  if  you  can  keep  any  loving  little  memory  of  the 
hours  we  spent  together,  I  want  you  to  do  so.  And  as  a 
remembrance,  I  want  you  to  have  my  little  electric  coupe.  It 
is  in  Rennard's  garage,  and  I  have  written  him  to  turn  it  over 
to  you.  I  shall  miss  our  happy  times  together,  but — I  can 
never  come  back.  Do  not  worry  about  me,  I  am  safe. 
And  I  am  your  affectionate 

VICKY  VAN. 

"  You  are  sure  this  is  from  Miss  Van  Allen?  " 
asked  Fenn. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  replied  Mrs.  Reeves.  "  There's  no 
mistaking  that  writing." 

Nor  was  there.  I  knew  Vicky's  penmanship, 
and  it  was  most  peculiar.  Never  have  I  seen  such 


THE  INQUEST  149 

a  hand.  Angular,  slightly  backhanded,  and  full  of 
character,  it  would  be  difficult  to  imitate  it,  and,  too, 
no  one  would  have  any  reason  to  forge  that  letter 
to  Mrs.  Reeves.  She  had  verified  Vicky's  state 
ment,  and  found  that  a  letter  to  the  garage  owner 
had  instructed  him  to  give  up  the  car  to  Mrs.  Reeves, 
and  he  had  already  done  so,  that  very  morning. 

The  letters  had  both  been  mailed  in  New  York 
the  night  before,  the  postmark  showing  that  they 
were  mailed  in  the  district  that  included  Vicky's 
residence. 

Was  she,  then,  even  now  in  hiding  near  her 
home?  Or,  had  she  sent  the  letters  to  be  mailed  by 
some  one  else?  By  Julie,  perhaps,  who,  I  felt  sure, 
was  with  her  mistress,  wherever  that  might  be. 

My  leaping  thoughts  took  in  all  this,  and  by 
degrees  the  slower  going  coroner,  put  it  in  words. 

Lowney,  the  detective,  bristled  with  interest.  A 
clue,  he  had,  he  thought,  but  what  a  clue!  Two 
letters  posted  in  the  city.  What  did  they  show  of 
the  whereabouts  of  the  missing  girl  ? 

Lowney  scrutinized  the  one  to  Mrs.  Reeves. 
Ordinary  paper,  such  as  might  be  bought  in  any 
stationery  or  department  store,  no  monogram  or 
initial  on  it,  nor  was  there  any  maker's  name  under 
the  flap. 

But  a  dozen  people  present  testified  to  Vicky's 


150  VICKY  VAN 

handwriting,  and  the  coroner  eagerly  took  posses 
sion  of  the  letter. 

Sherlock  Holmes,  I  thought  to  myself,  would 
read  that  letter,  look  at  it  through  his  good  old  lens, 
smell  it,  and  then  walk  out,  and  return  in  a  half 
hour,  with  Vicky  Van  in  tow! 

But  for  my  part,  I  could  see  nothing  illuminat 
ing  in  that  plain  paper  and  envelope,  and  the  letter 
in  the  well-known  penmanship. 

All  I  gathered  was,  that  wherever  Vicky  was, 
she  was  not  only  safe  but  comfortable.  The  tenor 
of  the  note  breathed  leisure  and  composure.  Clearly, 
she  was  not  breathlessly  hurrying  from  one  place  to 
another,  or  vigilantly  eluding  pursuit.  She  was  at 
ease,  with  opportunity  to  indulge  in  thoughtful  kind 
ness  to  a  friend,  and  to  write  at  length  about  herself. 

At  length,  yes,  but  with  no  hint  of  her  hiding- 
place  nor  any  clue  to  it.  Poor  little  Vicky!  She 
seemed  so  alone — and  yet — how  did  I  know?  She 
may  have  gone  to  friends  or — somehow  I  hated  to 
think  that  she  had  any  man  who  was  her  legal — or 
even  willing  protector. 

Yet  she  said  she  was  safe,  and  her  letter  showed 
no  fear  of  the  future.  And  then  again  I  was  stabbed 
by  the  thought  that  perhaps  there  was  no  earthly 
future  for  Vicky  Van.  I  didn't  want  her  to  kill  her 
self — I  didn't  want  her  to  be  found  and  arrested — 


THE  INQUEST  151 

what  did  I  want?  I  wasn't  sure  in  my  own  mind, 
save  that  I  wanted  her  safety  above  all  else.  I  sup 
pose  I  believed  her  guilty — I  could  believe  nothing 
else,  but  even  so,  I  didn't  want  her  brought  to  bay. 

I  gave  my  own  testimony,  which  was  all  true, 
and  all  frank,  except  that  I  said  nothing  of  my 
nocturnal  visit  to  Vicky's  house  or  of  our  telephone 
conversation.  If  my  conscience  smote  me  I  com 
bated  it  with  my  chivalry,  which  would  not  allow 
me  to  betray  a  woman  into  the  hands  of  the  law. 

The  later  witnesses,  who  were  mostly  the  work 
ing  people  whom  Vicky  employed  by  the  day,  told 
nothing  of  her  or  of  her  home  life.  They  all  spoke 
of  her  as  a  kind  lady  to  work  for,  though,  as  a  rule, 
they  had  not  seen  her,  but  had  been  engaged,  di 
rected  and  paid  by  the  maid,  Julie. 

It  seemed  to  be  tacitly  assumed  that  wherever 
Vicky  was  Julie  was  with  her.  I  had  had  this  in 
formation  from  Vicky  herself,  but  others  took  it  for 
granted,  in  the  absence  of  any  reason  to  think  the 
contrary. 

The  whole  day's  session,  to  my  mind,  achieved 
little  of  useful  information.  Mrs.  Reeves'  letter 
proved  conclusively  that  Vicky  was  aware  of  the 
search  being  made  for  her,  and  showed  her  determi 
nation  not  to  be  found.  It  was  Saturday,  and  when 
the  inquest  was  adjourned  until  Monday  morning,  I 


152  VICKY  VAN 

couldn't  help  feeling  that  it  might  as  well  have  been 
permanently  adjourned,  for  all  the  further  con 
clusions  it  would  lead  to. 

I  went  home  at  last,  thrilling  with  the  thought 
that  that  night  I  was  to  get  Vicky's  mail  from  her 
box  and  hide  it  where  she  had  directed.  I  secretly 
hoped  she  might  be  in  the  house  herself,  waiting 
for  it,  but  scarcely  dared  believe  this  would  be  the 
case. 


CHAPTER  XI 

A   NOTE   FROM    VICKY 

NOR  was  it.  I  had  secured  a  latch-key  to  the 
house,  from  the  police,  who  were  willing  enough  for 
me  to  search  for  possible  clues,  as  I  had  told  them  I 
would  do. 

At  their  wits'  end  to  locate  Vicky  Van,  they 
welcomed  my  help  and  felt  that  as  a  friend  of  hers, 
I  might  learn  more  than  a  disinterested  policeman 
could. 

So,  well  after  midnight,  watching  my  chance 
when  the  patrolman  had  just  passed  on  his  regular 
round,  I  went  across  the  street. 

Easily  I  opened  the  mailbox  and  extracted  a 
quantity  of  letters. 

Quietly,  then,  I  opened  the  house  door  and 
went  in. 

I  had  provided  myself  with  a  pocket  flashlight, 
as  I  didn't  want  to  illuminate  the  house,  and  I  went 
at  once  to  the  music  room,  to  perform  my  errand. 

How  strange  it  seemed !  The  lovely  room,  with 
dainty  white  and  gold  furnishings,  reminded  me  so 
forcibly  of  the  bewitching  girl  who  owned  it  all.  A 
thousand  questions  rose  in  my  mind.  What  would 

153 


154  VICKY  VAN 

become  of  that  bijou  residence?  The  bric-a-brac 
and  pictures,  the  rugs  and  furniture,  while  not  mag 
nificent,  were  of  the  best,  and  many  of  them  costly. 
The  great  Chinese  vase,  into  which  I  was  to  drop  the 
letters  was  a  gem  of  its  kind,  though  not  anything  a 
connoisseur  would  covet. 

I  raised  the  dragon-topped  lid,  and  let  the  letters 
fall  in.  Replacing  the  lid,  I  still  lingered.  My  errand 
was  done,  but  I  felt  an  impulse  to  stay.  Everything 
spoke  to  me  of  Vicky  Van.  Where  was  she  now? 
Making  sure  that  the  opaque  blinds  were  drawn,  I 
dared  to  turn  on  one  tiny  electric  lamp.  The  faint 
light  made  the  shadowed  room  lovelier  than  ever. 
Could  a  girl  of  such  cultivated  tastes  and  such  re 
finement  of  character  be  a — a  wrong-doer?  I 
couldn't  say  murderer  even  to  myself.  Then  my 
common  sense  flared  up,  and  told  me  that  crime  is 
no  respecter  of  persons.  That  women  who  had  slain 
human  beings  were  not  necessarily  of  this  or  that 
walk  of  life.  Granted  a  woman  had  a  motive  to 
kill  a  man,  that  motive  lay  in  the  impulses  of  her 
feminine  nature,  and  revenge,  jealousy,  fear,  love  or 
hate — whatever  the  motive,  it  was  of  deep  and  over 
powering  and  might  find  its  root  in  equal  likeliness 
in  the  breast  of  queen  or  beggarmaid.  I  could  not 
say  Vicky  was  incapable  of  crime — indeed,  her  gay, 
volatile  manner  might  hide  a  deeply  perturbed  spirit. 


A  NOTE  FROM  VICKY  155 

She  was  an  enigma,  and  I — I  must  solve  the  riddle. 
I  felt  I  should  never  rest,  until  I  knew  the  truth,  and 
if  Vicky  were  a  martyr  to  circumstances,  or  a  victim 
to  Fate,  I  must  know  all  about  it. 

Alone  there,  in  the  midnight  hours,  I  resolved  to 
devote  my  time,  all  I  could  spare,  my  energies,  all  I 
could  command,  and  my  life,  so  far  as  I  might,  to 
the  discovery  of  the  truth,  and  I  might  or  might  not 
reveal  my  findings  as  seemed  to  me  best. 

Leaving  the  music  room,  I  went  back  through 
the  long  hall,  and  passed  the  door  of  Vicky's  bed 
room.  Reverently  I  looked  inside.  The  very  walls 
seemed  crying  for  her  to  come  back.  Would  she 
ever  so  do?  I  wandered  on  through  the  bedroom, 
and  even  looked  in  the  dressing  room.  I  felt  no 
compunction.  It  was  not  from  idle  curiosity,  rather, 
I  walked  as  one  at  a  shrine.  The  exquisitely  femi 
nine  boudoir  was  a  mute  witness  to  a  love  of  beauty 
and  art.  I  used  only  my  flashlight,  but  on  an  im 
pulse,  I  turned  on  one  light  by  the  side  of  the  long 
mirror.  I  looked  in  it,  as  Vicky  must  oiten  have 
done  when  dressing  for  her  parties,  as,  indeed,  she 
must  have  done,  when  dressing  that  last  fatal  night, 
and  seeing  my  own  grim  reflection,  I  gravely  nodded 
my  head  at  myself,  and  whispered,  "  We'll  find  the 
truth,  old  man,  you  see  if  we  don't !  " 

In  the  ornate  Florentine  frame,  with  its  branch- 


156  VICKY  VAN 

ing  arabesques,  was  a  strand  of  the  gold  beads  that 
had  adorned  Vicky's  gown  that  night.  I  visualized 
her,  whirling  her  skirts  about  before  the  mirror, 
with  that  quick,  lithe  grace  of  hers,  and  catching  the 
fluttering  fringe  in  the  gilt  protuberance.  Perhaps 
she  exclaimed  in  petulance,  but,  more  likely,  I 
thought,  she  laughed  at  the  trivial  accident.  That 
was  Vicky  Van,  as  I  knew  her,  to  laugh  at  a  mis 
chance,  and  smile  good-naturedly  at  an  accident. 

I  lifted  the  strand  of  little  beads  from  the  en 
tangling  frame,  and  put  it  away  in  my  pocketbook, 
as  a  dear  and  intimate  souvenir  of  the  girl  I  had 
known.  Then,  with  a  final  glance  that  was  a  sort 
of  farewell,  I  glimpsed  the  pretty,  cosy  nest,  and 
went  downstairs. 

Here  I  paused  again.  Cassie  Weldon  had  said 
she  could  see  the  staircase  from  the  door  of  the 
living-room.  I  tried  it.  She  was  right.  A  person 
standing  just  inside  the  living-room  door,  could 
catch  sight  of  a  person  on  the  stairs.  And,  as 
Cassie,  said,  she  was  not  looking  that  way,  but  was 
partly  conscious  of  some  one  running  up  the  stairs. 
It  might  well  be.  She  would  naturally  give  the  inci 
dent  no  thought  at  the  moment — it  was  strange  she 
had  even  remembered  it.  And  it  may  have  been 
Vicky.  Then  she  might  have  descended  by  the  rear 
staircase,  there  probably  was  one,  I  didn't  know. 


A  NOTE  FROM  VICKY  157 

And  anyway,  what  mattered  it  how  she  had  left 
the  house?  She  had  left  it,  and  had  not  returned. 

I  remembered  the  allusion  to  the  skylight.  In  a 
jiffy,  I  had  run  upstairs  clear  to  the  highest  story. 
There  was  a  skylight,  or  scuttle,  rather,  and  it  was 
bolted  on  the  inside. 

That  settled  that.  Vicky  Van  had  not  climbed 
out  that  way,  and  I  for  one,  never  supposed  she  had. 

Strangely  reluctant  to  leave  the  house,  I  went 
downstairs  again,  looked  into  the  living-room,  and 
passed  on  to  the  dining-room.  I  contemplated  the 
sideboard,  in  front  of  which  Randolph  Schuyler  had 
met  his  death.  Many  pieces  of  silver  and  glass  stood 
upon  it,  and  all  was  in  order,  as  if  it  had  been  care 
fully  looked  after  for  the  party  occasion. 

Without  consciously  noting  details,  I  chanced  to 
observe  that  a  small  silver-handled  carving  fork,  was 
lacking  its  knife.  I  had  no  knowledge  of  Vicky 
Van's  table  appurtenances,  but  the  way  the  fork 
lay  looked  to  me  as  if  the  knife  had  lain  across  it, 
and  had  been  removed. 

I  had  no  concern  over  it,  for  I  knew  the  knife 
that  had  stabbed  Schuyler  was  now  in  possession  of 
the  police,  and  this  one  had  doubtless  been  used  in 
preparation  of  the  supper,  if  indeed,  there  was  a 
knife  belonging  to  the  fork. 

Tt  was  a  matter  of  no  moment,  but  somehow  it 


158  VICKY  VAN 

stuck  in  my  mind.  If  Vicky  or  rather,  if  Julie  had 
straightened  up  things  on  the  sideboard  in  the  proc 
ess  of  tidying  up  for  the  party,  would  she  not  have 
laid  the  fork  a  different  way,  unless  there  had  been 
a  matching  knife  to  lay  across  it?  I  suppose  the 
whole  question  came  into  my  mind,  because  at  home, 
we  had  a  beefsteak  carving  set  that  always  lay  crossed 
on  the  sideboard.  A  man  gets  accustomed  to  the 
sight  of  such  household  details,  and  they  are  photo 
graphed  on  his  memory. 

Well,  anyway,  I  looked  for  that  knife.  I  even 
went  to  the  butler's  pantry  and  looked,  but  I  didn't 
see  it.  The  pantry  had  been  hastily  evacuated  by 
the  caterer's  men,  and  though  tidied,  it  was  not  in 
spick  and  span  condition.  You  see,  having  lived 
so  long  with  two  such  homey  bodies  as  Aunt  Lucy 
and  Win,  I  was  not  utterly  unversed  in  domestic 
matters.  The  pantry  was  well  equipped  with  modern 
utensils  and  implements,  and  all  its  appointments 
spoke  of  the  taste  and  efficiency  of  its  mistress. 

"  Poor  Vicky,"  I  sighed  to  myself,  "  poor,  dear 
little  Vicky  Van!"  and  then  I  went  softly  out  of 
the  front  door  and  down  the  steps. 

I  went  slowly,  and  looked  back  several  times,  in 
a  vague  hope  that  Vicky  might  emerge  from  some 
nearby  shadow  and  go  into  the  house  for  her  letters. 
But  I  saw  no  sign  of  such  a  happening,  and  went 


A  NOTE  FROM  VICKY  159 

on  home,  my  heart  full  of  a  gloomy  foreboding  that 
I  would  never  see  her  again. 

"  Going  to  work  on  Sunday,  Winnie?  "  I  asked, 
as  next  morning,  my  sister  appeared,  garbed  for  the 
street. 

"  Not  regularly  to  work,  but  Mrs.  Schuyler  wants 
me  to  look  after  some  matters  of  confidence." 

"  Oho,  how  important  we  are !  "  I  chaffed  her. 
"  When  does  the  Crowell  lady  come  into  her  own?  " 

"  Not  for  another  week.  She  isn't  quite  ready 
to  come,  and  Mrs.  Schuyler  is  willing  to  keep  me  on 
a  while  longer." 

"  I  don't  blame  her,"  and  I  looked  at  my  pretty, 
bright-faced  sister  with  approval.  "  I  say,  old  girl, 
s'pose  I  stroll  over  with  you." 

"  Come  along.  Though  I'm  not  sure  Mrs. 
Schuyler  will  see  you.  She  usually  sends  me  to 
receive  callers." 

"  Well,  Little  Miss  Manage-It,  I  could  even  live 
through  that.  And  perhaps  I'll  get  a  look-in  with 
the  fair  sisters-in-law." 

"  That,  surely,  if  you  wish.  They're  ready  and 
eager  to  see  visitors.  I  believe  they  love  to  go  over 
the  details  of  the  whole  affair  with  anyone  who  will 
listen." 

"  Oh,  come  now,  Win,  not  as  bad  as  that." 

"  They  don't  think  it's  bad.     They're  bound  to 


160  VICKY  VAN 

track  down  the  Van  Allen  girl,  and  they  hold  the 
opinion  that  everybody  they  get  hold  of  may  be  an 
important  witness.  They  go  over  the  reports  from 
the  inquest  all  the  time,  and  can  hardly  wait  till  to 
morrow  to  see  what  will  come  out  next." 

"  Me  for  them,"  I  responded.  "  I'd  like  a  good 
chat  on  the  subject." 

We  went  over  to  the  Fifth  Avenue  house,  and 
were  admitted  by  the  solemn  and  wise-eyed  butler. 
I  was  shown  to  the  library,  while  Winnie  was  di 
rected  to  go  to  Mrs.  Schuyler's  room. 

But  it  was  not  long  before  we  were  all  together 
in  the  library — widow,  sisters,  and  all,  for  Lowney 
had  made  a  discovery  and  he  proposed  to  tell  the 
family  of  it. 

Win  and  I  were  allowed  to  be  present,  and  the 
detective  showed  his  new  find. 

It  seems  he  had  been  searching  the  papers  and 
letters  of  the  late  Mr.  Schuyler.  This  had  been  not 
only  permitted  by  the  wife,  but  had  been  urged  by 
the  sisters,  who  hoped  it  might  result  in  some  further 
light  on  the  mysterious  Miss  Van  Allen.  And  it 
did.  In  the  desk,  in  a  secret  compartment — which 
was  not  so  secret  but  that  the  detective  could  open 
it — were  a  number  of  letters  from  feminine  pens, 
and  a  number  of  receipted  bills  for  jeweled  trinkets, 
presumably  sent  to  these  or  other  ladies,  for  they 


A  NOTE  FROM  VICKY  161 

were  not  of  a  sort  affected  by  Ruth  Schuyler  or  the 
two  sisters.  A  blue  enameled  watch  bracelet,  and  a 
rhinestone  tiara  were  representative  purchases  en 
tered  on  these  bills. 

But  the  pile  of  letters  sank  into  insignificance, 
when  we  learned  the  fact  that  there  was  a  letter 
from  Vicky  Van  among  them ! 

Regardless  of  Mrs.  Schuyler's  feelings,  Lowney 
read  the  letter  aloud.  This  was  it : 

MY  DEAR  MR.  SCHUYLER  : 

I  enjoyed  your  supper  party,  and  it  was  good  of  you 
to  give  me  inside  information  about  the  stocks.  But  I  must 
beg  of  you  to  cease  your  further  attentions  to  me,  as  I 
cannot  number  on  my  list  of  calling  acquaintances  the  husband 
of  another  woman.  I  am,  perhaps,  rather  prudish  in  my  view 
of  life,  but  this  is  one  of  my  inviolable  rules. 
Very  truly  yours, 

VICTORIA  VAN  ALLEN. 

I  knew  that  before.  Vicky  Van,  living  alone 
and  unchaperoned,  save  for  the  ubiquitous  Julie, 
flouted  convention  in  many  ways,  but  it  was  as  she 
said,  her  inviolable  rule  to  receive  no  married  man 
without  his  wife  at  her  parties.  Nor  wras  there 
often  occasion  for  her  to  use  this  stipulation.  The 
young  people  whom  I  had  met  at  her  house,  had 
always  been  maids  and  bachelors,  and  now  and  then, 
a  young  married  couple  who  playfully  enacted  a 
chaperon  part.  Mrs.  Reeves,  a  widow,  was  prob 
ably  the  oldest  of  the  crowd,  but  she  was  well  under 
forty. 

11 


162  VICKY  VAN 

It  was  quite  true,  no  married  man,  and  indeed, 
no  man  of  the  type  or  age  of  Randolph  Schuyler, 
had  ever,  to  my  knowledge,  enjoyed  the  friendship 
of  Vicky  Van.  But  not  for  a  minute,  did  I  think 
that  she  would  go  so  far  as  to  kill  him  for  daring 
to  enter  her  house!  That  was  unthinkable. 

And  yet,  it  seemed  so  to  Lowney,  and,  appar 
ently,  to  the  sisters  of  the  dead  man. 

She  declared  that  the  letter  proved  that  Ran 
dolph  had  intruded  on  her  acquaintance,  and  she 
had  objected  from  coyness  or  coquetry;  and  that 
when  he  persisted,  she  was  so  enraged  that  she  flew 
into  a  passion  and  wilfully  ended  his  life. 

"  I  can't  think  that,"  said  Ruth  Schuyler, 
wearily.  "  It  seems  more  to  me  as  if  that  letter 
exculpates  the  girl.  She  was  quite  evidently  not  in 
love  with  my  husband,  and  she  honestly  tried  to 
make  him  understand  her  scruples.  So  I  can't  think 
she  killed  him.  I  did  think  so  at  first,  of  course,  but 
on  thinking  things  over,  and  in  the  light  of  this 
letter,  I  begin  to  believe  her  innocent.  What  date 
does  the  letter  bear?  " 

"  There's  no  date,"  said  Lowney,  looking  at  the 
paper.  "  It  was  not  in  an  envelope — 

"  Then  how  did  it  reach  my  husband  ?  " 

"  Oh,  of  course,  it  came  in  an  envelope,  I  sup 
pose,  but  I  found  none  with  it.  So  we  can't  tell 


A  NOTE  FROM  VICKY  163 

where  it  was  sent,  here  or  to  one  of  his  clubs  or  to 
his  office  address." 

"  Not  here,  I'm  sure,"  said  Mrs.  Schuyler. 
"  Probably  to  his  club.  You  are  quite  welcome  to 
the  letter,  Mr.  Lowney.  Make  what  use  you  think 
best  of  it.  If  it  serves  to  establish  Miss  Van  Allen's 
innocence,  I  shall  be  rather  glad.  But  if  it  seems  to 
throw  further  suspicion  on  her,  then  justice  must 
be  done." 

''  Of  course,  it  throws  suspicion  on  that  woman !  " 
declared  Miss  Rhoda  Schuyler,  with  a  vindictive 
glance  at  the  letter  in  Lowney's  hand.  "  The  hussy, 
to  write  to  Randolph  at  all !  " 

"  But,"  I  interposed,  unable  to  stand  this  unjust 
speech,  "  Mr.  Schuyler  must  have  made  advances 
to  her  first." 

"  She  lured  him  on.  I've  heard  you  say  your 
self,  Mr.  Calhoun,  that  this  Van  Allen  person  is  a 
siren,  a " 

"  Now,  now,  Miss  Rhoda,"  I  began,  but  the 
other  sister  chimed  in. 

"  Of  course  she  is!  Of  course,  the  wrong  was 
mostly  hers.  And  she  killed  Randolph,  I  know  it! 
Why,  the  waiter  man  saw  her!  Go  ahead,  Mr. 
Lowney,  hunt  her  down,  and  bring  her  to  account. 
I  never  shall  sleep  peacefully  until  my  brother's 
death  is  avenged !  I  cannot  understand,  Ruth,  how 
vou  can  be  so  indifferent." 


164  VICKY  VAN 

A  flush  rose  to  Ruth  Schuyler's  cheek,  and,  en 
lightened  anew  to  her  husband's  character  by  that 
letter,  I  began  to  feel  a  different  sort  of  sympathy 
for  the  widow. 

Randolph  Schuyler  had  been  unfaithful,  he  had 
been  domineering  and  tyrannical,  and  I  knew  he  had 
not  allowed  his  wife  to  have  the  comforts  and 
luxuries  she  desired,  although  he  was  enormously 
wealthy. 

A  social  secretary,  for  instance.  Most  women  of 
Ruth  Schuyler's  rank  in  society  had  that  necessary 
assistant,  yet,  during  Schuyler's  life  his  wife  was 
forbidden  the  favor. 

Winnie  had  told  me  this,  and  had  told  me  much 
more,  that  proved  how  unjust  and  unkind  Randolph 
Schuyler  had  been.  The  sisters,  too,  shared  his 
views,  and  as  a  consequence,  the  household  was  run 
on  old-fashioned  lines  that  ill  accord  with  the  ways 
of  to-day. 

Mrs.  Schuyler  had  in  no  way  complained.  Win 
told  me,  but  it  was  easily  seen  how  matters  stood. 
It  fell  to  Winnie's  lot  to  order  many  things  from 
the  shops — stationery,  mourning  apparel,  and  house 
needs.  These,  my  sister  said,  were  ordered  with  the 
most  perfect  taste,  but  with  a  lavishness,  which  was 
indubitably  unusual  to  Ruth  Schuyler. 


A  NOTE  FROM  VICKY  165 

The  sisters  exclaimed  at  the  extravagance,  but 
Ruth,  though  listening  politely,  serenely  went  her 
own  way,  and  carried  out  her  own  plans.  In  the 
matter  of  fresh  flowers,  she  was  like  a  child,  Win 
said,  and  she  enjoyed  the  blossoms  she  ordered  as  if 
she  had  hungered  for  them  for  years.  Winnie  was 
growing  deeply  attached  to  her  employer,  if  that 
word  is  applicable,  and  Ruth  Schuyler  was  fond  of 
Win. 

But  I  am  disgressing.  Mrs.  Schuyler  replied  to 
her  sister-in-law's  speech  by  saying,  gently,  "  I  am 
not  indifferent,  Sarah,  but  it  seems  to  me  we  have 
no  real  evidence  against  the  girl,  and " 

"  No  real  evidence !  When  she  was  caught  red- 
handed!  Or  nearly  caught!  If  that  stupid  waiter 
had  had  sense  enough  to  jump  and  grab  her,  we 
would  have  had  no  search  to  make  at  all !  " 

"  It  may  be  so,  Sarah,  you  may  be  right.  But 
until  you  do  find  her  don't  condemn  her  utterly. 
From  what  Mr.  Calhoun  has  told  me  of  her  and 
from  the  tone  of  that  letter  she  wrote  to  Randolph, 
I  can't  make  it  seem  possible  that  she  killed  a  man 
she  knew  so  slightly.  And  yet,  it  may  be  she  did." 

"  Well,"  remarked  Lowney,  "  the  note  proves 
that  she  had  seen  Mr.  Schuyler  before,  anyway. 
Then,  when  he  came  to  her  house  as  Mr.  Somers, 
she  was  naturally  annoyed,  as  she  had  asked  him  not 


166  VICKY  VAN 

to  do  so.  And  all  that  is  against  the  girl,  I  say.  But 
it  remains  to  be  seen  what  the  coroner's  jury  will 
think  of  it." 

"  They'll  see  it  in  its  true  light,"  declared  Rhoda 
Schuyler.  "Of  course,  she  was  angry  when  he  came 
to  her  house  after  being  forbidden,  unless  the  sly 
thing  wrote  the  note  just  to  lure  him  on,  but  in  any 
case,  she  was  alone  with  him,  she  used  the  knife  on 
him  and  she  ran  away.  What  more  evidence  do 
you  need  ?  Now,  to  find  her.  That's  a  task  I  shall 
never  give  up  or  neglect  until  I've  accomplished  it." 

"And  you  are  right,  Rhoda,"  said  Ruth,  "if 
the  girl  is  guilty.  I  hope  she  will  be  found,  for  I'm 
sure  the  truth  could  then  be  learned,  whether  she  is 
guilty  or  not." 

"  Will  you  come,  now,  Mrs.  Schuyler,"  said 
Tibbetts,  from  the  doorway.  "  The  flowers  have 
arrived." 

Ruth,  beckoning  to  Winnie,  rose,  and  the  two 
left  the  room. 

"  Perfectly  idiotic,"  said  Sarah,  "  the  way  she 
orders  flowers !  Fresh  ones  every  day !  " 

"  But  hasn't  she  a  right  to  spend  her  own  money 
as  she  likes?  "  I  defended. 

"  A  legal  right,  perhaps,"  was  the  retort,  "  but 
not  a  moral  right  to  disregard  her  husband's  wishes 
so  utterly." 


CHAPTER  XII 

MORE  NOTES 

NEXT  morning  at  breakfast,  there  was  but  one 
topic  of  conversation.  Indeed,  little  else  had  been 
talked  of  for  days  but  the  Schuyler  case  and  all  its 
side  issues. 

Winnie  held  forth  at  length  on  the  martyrdom 
Ruth  Schuyler  had  suffered  because  of  the  cruelty  of 
her  late  husband. 

"  He  wasn't  really  ugly,  you  know,"  explained 
Win,  "  and  I  don't  say  she's  glad  he's  dead.  But 
he  thwarted  her  in  every  little  way  that  she  wanted 
to  enjoy  herself.  They  had  a  box  at  the  opera,  and 
a  big  country  house  and  all  that,  but  he  wouldn't 
let  her  go  to  matinees  or  have  a  motor  of  her  own 
or  buy  anything  until  he  had  passed  judgment  on  it. 
She  even  had  to  submit  her  costume  designs  to  him, 
and  if  he  approved  the  dressmaker  made  them  up. 
And  he  wouldn't  let  her  have  fashionable  clothes. 
They  had  to  be  plain  and  of  rich  heavy  materials, 
such  as  the  sisters  wear.  Mr.  Schuyler  was  under 
the  thumb  of  those  two  old  maids,  and  Rhoda,  espe 
cially,  put  him  up  to  all  sorts  of  schemes  to  bother 
Ruth." 

"  Do  you  call  her  Ruth?  "  I  asked,  in  surprise. 

167 


168  VICKY  VAN 

;'  Yes,  she  told  me  I  might.  She's  lovely  to  me, 
and  I'm  so  glad  to  do  all  I  can  for  her.  Honest, 
Chet,  she  lived  an  awful  life  with  that  man." 

"I'd  like  to  see  her,"  said  Aunt  Lucy.  "All 
you've  said  about  her,  Winnie,  makes  me  a  bit 
curious." 

"  So  you  shall,  Auntie,  some  time.  She's  a  real 
friend  of  mine  now,  and  even  after  Edith  Crowell 
goes  there  as  secretary,  she  says  I  must  often  go  to 
see  her  as  her  friend." 

"  She's  charming,"  I  declared.  "  Every  time  I 
see  her  I'm  more  impressed  with  her  gentle  dignity. 
And  I  don't  know  how  she  can  be  so  decent  to  those 
two  old  women." 

"  Nor  I,"  agreed  Win,  as  Aunt  Lucy  asked,  "  Is 
she  pretty  ?  " 

"Is  she,  Winnie?"  I  said. 

"  Well,  she  is  and  she  isn't.  She's  so  colorless, 
you  know.  Her  hair  is  that  flat  ashy  blonde,  and 
she's  so  pale  always.  Then  her  eyes  and  lashes  are 
so  light,  and — well,  ineffective.  But  her  expres 
sion  is  so  sweet,  and  when  once  in  a  while  she 
laughs  outright,  she's  very  attractive.  And  she's 
such  a  thoroughbred.  She  never  errs  in  taste  or 
judgment.  She  knows  just  what  to  reply  to  all  the 
queer  letters  of  condolence  that  come  to  her,  and  just 
how  to  talk  to  the  people  who  call.  And  that's 


MORE  NOTES  169 

another  thing.  She  hasn't  any  friends  of  her  own 
age.  She  knows  only  the  people  who  belong  to  the 
most  exclusive  set,  and  they're  nearly  all  the  age 
of  the  old  sisters.  But  Mrs.  Schuyler  is  lovely  to 
them.  And  in  her  soft  pretty  black  gowns  she  looks 
a  whole  lot  better  than  she  ever  did  in  the  ones  she 
wore  while  he  was  alive.  I've  seen  them  in  her 
wardrobe,  and  I've  seen  her  try  on  some  that  she 
was  going  to  give  away,  and  they're  sights !  Elegant, 
you  know,  but  not  the  thing  for  her.  Now,  that  she 
can  select  her  own,  she  has  beauties." 

"  She  certainly  must  be  glad,  then,  to  be  freed 
from  such  a  tyrant,"  said  Aunt  Lucy. 

"  Now  don't  you  think  that !  "  insisted  Winnie, 
earnestly.  "  She  may  feel,  so,  'way  down  in  her 
deepest  heart,  but  she  won't  admit  it,  even  to  her 
self.  And,  of  course,  no  matter  how  much  she 
didn't  love  him,  she  wouldn't  want  him  taken  off 
that  way!  No,  she's  perfectly  all  right,  and  she 
mourns  that  man  just  as  sincerely  as  any  woman 
could  mourn  a  man  who  didn't  understand  her." 

I  looked  at  Win  in  amazement.  Little  sister  was 
growing  up,  it  seemed.  Well,  the  experience  would 
do  her  no  harm.  Ruth  Schuyler's  influence  could 
work  only  for  good,  and  a  taste  of  real  life  would 
give  a  wider  outlook  than  Win  could  get  at  home. 

I  went  down  to  the  coroner's  courtroom.     The 


170,  VICKY  VAN 

inquest  was  proceeding  in  its  usual  discursive  way, 
and  I  sat  down  to  listen  for  a  while.  The  coroner 
was  hearing  reports  from  detectives  who  had  inter 
viewed  the  market  men  and  shopkeepers  where  Vicky 
Van  had  bought  wares. 

It  was  just  what  might  be  expected  from  any 
householder's  record.  Vicky  had  always  paid  her 
bills  promptly,  usually  by  check  on  a  well-known 
bank.  Sometimes,  if  the  bills  were  small  they  were 
paid  in  cash.  In  such  case  Miss  Van  Allen  herself 
or  the  maid  brought  the  money;  if  checks,  they  were 
sent  by  mail.  The  garage  man  reported  a  similar 
state  of  affairs.  His  monthly  bills  were  promptly 
paid,  and  Miss  Van  Allen  had  found  no  fault  with 
his  service.  She  was  awray  from  home  frequently, 
but  when  at  home,  she  used  her  motor  car  often  and 
was  kind  to  the  chauffeur  who  drove  her.  This 
chauffeur  told  of  taking  her  to  the  shops,  to  the 
theatre,  to  friends'  houses  and  to  picture  galleries — 
but  had  never  been  directed  to  any  place  where  a 
lady  might  not  go. 

The  bank  people  said  that  Miss  Van  Allen  had 
had  an  account  with  them  for  years,  but  as  their  de 
positors  were  entitled  to  confidential  dealings  they 
would  say  little  more.  They  stated,  however,  that 
Miss  Van  Allen  was  a  most  desirable  patron  and 
never  overdrew  her  account  or  made  trouble  of  any 
sort. 


MORE  NOTES  171 

There  was  nothing  to  be  gleaned  from  this  kind 
of  testimony.  We  all  knew  that  Vicky  was  a  good 
citizen  and  all  this  was  merely  corroboration. 
What  was  wanted  was  some  hint  of  her  present 
whereabouts. 

Lowney  had  tried  to  get  at  this  by  the  use  of 
an  address  book  he  had  found  in  Vicky  Van's  desk. 
He  had  telephoned  or  called  on  many  of  the  people 
whose  addresses  were  in  the  book,  but  all  said  over 
and  over  what  we  already  knew. 

Personally,  I  felt  sure  that  Vicky  was  staying 
with  some  friend  not  far  from  her  own  house.  It 
could  well  be,  that  somebody  cared  enough  for  the 
girl  to  hide  her  from  the  authorities.  This,  however, 
argued  her  guilty,  for  otherwise,  a  true  friend  would 
persuade  her  that  the  wiser  course  would  be  to  dis 
close  herself  to  the  public. 

However,  nothing  transpired  to  bear  out  my 
opinion,  and  as  the  list  of  witnesses  dwindled,  no 
progress  was  made  toward  a  solution  of  the  mystery. 
And  so,  when  at  last,  an  open  verdict  was  returned, 
with  no  mention  of  Vicky's  name,  I  was  decidedly 
relieved,  but  I  didn't  see  how  it  could  have  been 
otherwise. 

I  dropped  in  at  the  Schuyler  house  on  my  way 
home.  I  was  beginning  to  feel  on  a  very  friendly 
footing  there,  and,  partly  owing  to  Winnie's  graphic 


172  VICKY  VAN 

powers  of  narration,  I  took  an  increasing  interest  in 
Ruth  Schuyler. 

As  Win  had  said,  she  looked  charming,  although 
pathetic  in  her  black  robes.  She  permitted  herself  a 
touch  of  white  at  the  turned-in  throat,  and  a  white 
flower  was  tucked  in  her  bodice.  A  contrast,  in 
deed,  to  the  severe  g'arb  of  the  spinster  sisters,  who 
looked  like  allegorical  figures  of  hopeless  gloom. 

But  their  manner  was  more  of  militant  revenge, 
and,  having  heard  the  verdict  of  the  coroner's  jury, 
they  were  ready  to  take  up  the  case  themselves. 

"  Come  in,  Mr.  Calhoun,"  they  called  out,  as  I 
entered  the  library,  "  you're  just  the  man  we  want  to 
see.  Now,  that  the  coroner  has  finished  his  task,  we 
will  take  the  matter  up.  Mr.  Lowney,  I  suppose, 
will  continue  the  search  for  Miss  Van  Allen,  but  we 
fear  he  will  not  be  successful.  So,  we  have  de 
termined  to  send  for  the  great  detective,  Fleming 
Stone." 

"Stone!"  I  cried,  "why,  he  won't  work  with 
the  police." 

"  Then  he  can  work  without  them,"  declared 
Rhoda,  with  asperity.  "  I've  heard  wonderful 
stories  of  that  man's  success,  and  we're  going  to 
engage  him  at  once." 

"  He's  very  expensive,"  I  began. 


MORE  NOTES  173 

"  No  matter.  We're  going  to  find  our  brother's 
murderer  if  it  takes  every  penny  of  our  fortune." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  this  plan,  Mrs.  Schuy- 
ler?"  I  asked. 

"  I've  not  been  consulted,"  she  said,  with  a  slight 
smile.  "  Since  Mr.  Randolph's  sisters  choose  to 
adopt  it,  I  have  no  reason  to  object.  I  know  noth 
ing  of  Mr.  Stone,  but  if  he  is  really  a  great  detec 
tive,  he  will  not  condemn  that  girl  unheard.  And  if 
she  is  proved  guilty,  o>f  course  the  claims  of  justice 
must  be  met.  Do  you  know  him,  Mr.  Calhoun  ?  " 

"  Not  personally.  I've  often  heard  of  him, 
and  he's  a  wonder.  If  you  want  to  find  Miss  Van 
Allen,  you  can't  do  better  than  to  get  him  on  the 
trail.  If  he  can't  find  her,  nobody  can." 

"  That's  what  I  say,"  put  in  Sarah.  "  And  if  he 
doesn't  find  her,  at  least  we've  the  satisfaction  of 
knowing  we've  done  all  we  could." 

"  We  thought  of  offering  a  reward  for  informa 
tion  of  Miss  Van  Allen,"  added  Rhoda,  "  but  if 
we're  going  to  get  Mr.  Stone,  wouldn't  it  be  better 
to  consult  him  about  that?  " 

"  I  think  it  would,"  I  judged. 

Just  then  Winnie  came  into  the  room.  She  had 
been  writing  notes,  and  she  held  a  lot  of  unopened 
letters  in  her  hand. 

"Oh,  Ruth,"  she  cried,  "what  do  you  think! 


174  VICKY  VAN 

Here's  the  mail,  Jepson  just  gave  it  to  me,  and 
there's  a  letter  for  you  from  Miss  Van  Allen !  " 

"  What !  "  cried  everybody  at  once. 

"  Yes,"  declared  Winnie,  "  I  know  the  hand,  it's 
the  same  as  was  on  that  letter  to  Mr.  Schuyler.  It's 
such  a  queer  hand,  you  can't  forget  it." 

She  handed  all  the  letters  to  Ruth,  the  one  she 
referred  to  on  top. 

Mrs.  Schuyler  turned  pale  as  she  looked  at  the 
envelope.  I  glanced  at  it,  too,  and  without  doubt,  it 
was  Vicky  Van's  writing. 

It  had  been  mailed  in  New  York  that  same  morn 
ing,  and  delivered  just  now,  about  five  o'clock. 

"  You  open  it,  Mr.  Calhoun,"  said  Ruth,  as  if 
she  shrank  from  the  task. 

I  took  it  gravely,  for  it  seemed  to  me  to  portend 
trouble  for  little  Vicky.  Was  she  giving  herself  up, 
or  what? 

Win  handed  me  a  letter-opener,  and  I  slit  the 
envelope. 

As  they  breathlessly  awaited  my  words,  I  read : 

To  MRS.  RANDOLPH  SCHUYLER: 

Dear  Madam :  It  is  useless  to  look  for  me.  To-day  I  am 
leaving  New  York  forever.  The  mystery  of  Mr.  Schuyler's 
death  will  never  be  solved,  the  truth  never  learned.  I  alone 
know  the  secret  and  it  will  die  with  me.  You  may  employ 
detectives  from  now  till  doomsday  but  you  will  discover  noth 
ing.  So  give  up  the  search,  for  you  will  never  find 

VICTORIA  VAN  ALLEN. 


MORE  NOTES  175 

There  was  a  pause  as  I  finished  reading.  My 
self,  I  was  thrilled  by  a  certain  phrase  in  the  letter. 
Vicky  said,  "  the  secret  will  die  with  me."  Again, 
I  felt  that  she  was  intending  to  bring  about  her  own 
death,  and  that  speedily.  Would  we  know  it  if  she 
did?  I  was  thinking  deeply,  when  Miss  Rhoda 
spoke : 

"  I  believe  that  girl  means  to  kill  herself,  and  I 
should  think  she  would !  " 

"  Why  do  you  think  that?  "  and  Ruth  looked  up 
with  a  startled  face. 

''  It  sounds  so,  and  it  would  be  the  natural  out 
come  of  her  remorse  at  her  dreadful  deed." 

"  I  think  she  must  be  guilty,"  said  Winnie,  her 
dear  little  countenance  drawn  with  grief,  as  she 
studied  the  letter  for  herself. 

None  of  us  said  much  more.  We  all  were 
stunned  in  a  way,  by  this  unexpected  development, 
and  had  to  readjust  our  theories. 

"  Well,"  Miss  Rhoda  said,  decidedly,  "  I  shall 
consult  Mr.  Stone,  anyway.  I've  written  him,  and 
though  I've  not  mailed  the  letter  yet,  I  shall  send  it 
off  to-night.  Then  when  he  comes  to  talk  it  over  we 
can  see  what  he  says  and  abide  by  his  judgment." 

"  That's  a  good  idea,  Rhoda,"  and  Ruth  Schuy- 
ler  nodded  assentingly;  "I,  too,  want  justice,  and 


176  VICKY  VAN 

if  Fleming  Stone  thinks  he  can  find  Miss  Van  Allen, 
let  him  do.  so." 

It  was  six  o'clock  then,  and  Win  and  I  went 
home,  leaving  the  Schuyler  ladies  to  their  own 
discussions. 

Ruth  Schuyler's  hand  lingered  a  moment  in 
mine,  as  I  bade  her  adieu,  and  she  said,  wistfully, 
"  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  just  what  you  think  we 
had  better  do.  I  am  so  unaccustomed  to  judging 
for  myself  in  any  important  matter." 

"  I  think  it  is  wise  to  get  Mr.  Stone,"  I  returned. 
"  In  any  case  it  can  do  no  harm,  you  know." 

"  No,  I  suppose  not,"  and  she  gave  me  one  of  her 
rare  smiles  of  appreciation.  "  I  am  glad  you  are 
looking  after  us,  instead  of  Mr.  Bradbury,"  she  said 
further,  and  I  sincerely  responded  that  I  was  glad, 
too. 

Another  surprise  awaited  me  at  home.  On  the 
hall  table  lay  my  own  mail,  and  as  I  picked  it  up, 
and  ran  the  letters  over,  there  was  one  from  Vicky 
Van. 

I  hastily  concealed  it  from  Winnie's  sharp  eyes, 
for  I  had  no  notion  what  it  might  divulge,  and 
hurried  with  it  up  to  my  own  room. 

Impatiently  I  tore  it  open  and  raced  through  its 
contents. 


MORE  NOTES  177 

DEAR  MR.  CALHOUN  : 

Thank  you  deeply  for  attending  to  my  errand.  Owing 
to  your  kindness  I  received  the  letters  I  wanted.  Now,  will 
you  do  me  one  last  favor?  Come  again  to  the  house  to- 
riight,  and  take  a  small  parcel  which  you  will  find  in  the 
Chinese  jar  in  the  music  room.  Keep  this  for  me  and  if 
I  do  not  ask  you  for  it  within  a  year,  destroy  it  unopened. 
I  wish  I  could  be  more  frank  with  you,  you  have  proved 
yourself  such  a  staunch  friend,  but  I  cannot  control  circum 
stances  and  so  I  must  bear  my  fate.  I  do  not  know  what 
Mrs.  Schuyler  will  think  of  it,  but  I  have  written  her  a  letter. 
When  you  see  her,  try  to  make  her  realize  it  is  useless  to 
hunt  for  me.  Since  I  can  keep  hidden  for  this  length  of 
time,  my  retreat  is  not  likely  to  be  discovered.  And  now, 
my  kindest  of  friends,  good-bye. 

VICKY  VAN. 

I  stood,  staring  at  the  letter.  I  read  it  through  a 
dozen  times.  Of  course,  I  would  do  her  bidding, 
but  my  heart  rebelled  at  the  finality  of  the  lines.  I 
knew  I  would  never  hear  from  Vicky  Van  again. 
As  she  said,  since  we  hadn't  traced  her  yet,  we 
never  could. 

I  wondered  where  she  could  possibly  be.  And 
Julie,  too.  Somebody  was  shielding  them  both. 
They  couldn't  be  disguised  or  anything  of  that  sort, 
for  they  had  left  the  house  at  dead  of  night,  with 
out  luggage  or — and  I  hadn't  thought  of  this  before 
— without  money!  How  could  they  have  found 
shelter,  save  in  some  friend's  house? 

Of  course,  Vicky  could  have  snatched  up  a  purse 
as  she  ran.  Perhaps  that  was  what  she  flew  up- 
12 


178  VICKY  VAN 

stairs  for.  And  then,  maybe,  she  went  down  the 
back  stairs — but  no,  the  waiters  must  have  seen  her 
that  way.  And  Luigi  was  in  the  front  hall  a  moment 
after  Vicky  disappeared. 

Aside  from  my  personal  interest,  I  hated  to  think 
I  should  never  know  just  how  she  did  get  away. 
For  now,  I  had  no  hope  that  Fleming  Stone  or  any 
one  else  could  ever  find  the  girl.  She  was  too  canny 
to  be  taken,  after  her  successful  concealment  so  far. 

I  went  downstairs  after  a  time,  but  I  said  noth 
ing  of  my  letter  to  Aunt  Lucy  or  Win. 

They  were  eagerly  discussing  the  latest  news,  and 
Aunt  Lucy  was  saying,  "  Yes,  I've  heard  of  Mr. 
Stone,  and  they  do  say  he's  a  marvel.  I  hope  he'll 
find  the  girl,  if  only  to  learn  the  mystery  of  her 
disappearance." 

"  Oh,  he'll  find  her,"  assured  Winnie,  "  I've  heard 
a  lot  about  him  over  there  and  he's  a  wizard !  But 
I  think  he'll  have  a  long  chase." 

"Meantime,  what  becomes  of  the  house?" 
queried  Aunt  Lucy.  "  What  does,  Chet  ?  Can  any 
one  go  in  it  who  likes  ?  " 

"  No,"  I  returned,  a  little  shortly,  for  I  foresaw 
Aunt  Lucy  had  that  absurd  feminine  desire  to  pry 
into  another  person's  home.  "  It's  in  charge  of  the 
police,  and  they  won't  let  anyone  in,  without  some 
very  good  reason." 


MORE  NOTES  179 

"Couldn't  you  get  in?" 

"  I  suppose  I  might,"  I  admitted  unwillingly, 
"  if  I  had  any  business  there." 

"  Oh,  do  get  up  some  business,  Chet,"  begged 
Winnie,  "  and  get  the  keys  and  let  Auntie  and  me 
go  with  you!  Oh,  do>!  I'd  love  to  see  that  girl's 
things !  " 

"  Winnie,  you're  positively  lowbred  to  show  such 
curiosity !  "  I  exclaimed,  angrily — the  more  so,  that 
I  had  the  house  key  in  my  pocket  at  that  moment. 
But  I  was  glad  I  had  not  told  them  of  Vicky  Van's 
letter  to  me ! 

I  waited  until  well  past  midnight,  and  then,  after 
seeing  the  post  patrol  pass  Vicky's  door,  I  softly 
went  out  of  my  own  house,  and  across  the  street. 

I  walked  calmly  up  the  steps  of  Vicky's  home, 
and  sadly  put  the  latchkey  in  the  door — for  the  last 
time.  I  felt  as  if  I  were  performing  funeral  rites, 
and  I  entered  and  closed  the  door  behind  me,  softly, 
as  one  does  in  the  house  of  death. 

I  went  up  the  stairs,  in  the  gloom.  It  was  not 
black  darkness,  for  a  partly  raised  blind  gave  me 
a  glimmer  of  light  from  the  street.  Into  the  music 
room  I  went,  and  by  my  pocket  flashlight,  I  took 
the  lid  from  the  Chinese  jar.  But  there  was  no 
parcel  inside! 

Amazed,  I  threw  the  light  down  into  the  big 
vase,  but  it  was  utterly  empty. 


180  VICKY  VAN 

There  was  no  use  looking  elsewhere  for  the 
parcel — I  knew  Vicky  well  enough  to  know  that  she 
would  do  exactly  as  she  had  said.  Or,  since  she 
hadn't,  I  was  sure  that  she  would  not  have  left 
that  parcel  in  any  other  hiding-place. 

I  put  the  flashlight  back  in  my  pocket,  and  started 
downstairs. 

Slowly  I  descended,  for  I  still  felt  a  little  uncer 
tain  what  to  do.  Should  I  wait  for  a  short  time,  or 
go  back  home  and  return  again  later? 

I  reached  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  and  concluded 
to  go  home,  and  then  think  out  my  next  step. 

As  I  passed  the  living-room  door,  I  heard  a  low 
voice  whisper  my  name. 

I  turned  sharply.  In  the  doorway,  I  could  dimly 
discern  a  cloaked  figure.  "  Hush !  "  she  said,  softly, 
and  beckoned  to  me. 

It  was  Vicky  Van! 


CHAPTER  XIII 

FLEMING  STONE 

VICKY  had  said  "Hush!"  but  it  was  an  un 
necessary  precaution,  for  I  was  too  stunned  to  articu 
late.  I  peered  at  her  in  the  darkness  and  then, 
unable  to  control  my  desire  for  certainty  I  flashed 
my  little  pocket  light  on  her  for  an  instant. 

"  Don't !  "  she  whispered,  putting  her  hands  up 
before  her  face. 

But  I  had  seen.  It  was  really  Vicky  Van,  her 
smooth  black  hair  looped  over  her  ears,  her  scarlet 
mouth,  and  soft  pink  cheeks,  flushed  with  excite 
ment  of  the  moment,  and  her  long  dark  lashes, 
which  suddenly  fell  beneath  the  blinding  flare  of  the 
light,  all  were  those  of  the  runaway  girl. 

"  Don't  talk,"  she  said,  hastily,  "  let  me  do  the 
talking.  I  want  you  to  help  me,  will  you  ?  " 

"Of  course,  I  will,"  and  all  sense  of  law  and 
justice  fled  before  the  wave  of  pity  and  solicitude 
for  the  trembling  suppliant  who  thus  appealed  to  me. 

Her  voice  was  indistinct  and  a  little  hoarse,  as 
if  she  was  laboring  under  great  mental  and  nerve 
strain,  and  she  was  so  alone,  so  unprotected,  that  I 
couldn't  help  promising  any  assistance  in  my  power. 

181 


182  VICKY  VAN 

"  There  wasn't  any  parcel  in  the  big  vase,"  I 
said,  in  a  low  voice,  as  she  seemed  to  hesitate  about 
going  on  with  her  explanation. 

"  No,  here  it  is,"  and  she  handed  me  a  little  box. 
"  Just  put  it  away  safely  for  the  present.  And  now, 
•this  is  what  I  want  to  ask  of  you.  Don't  let  them 
engage  that  Mr.  Stone,  to  hunt  me  down,  will  you?  " 

"Why,  how  can  I  help  it?" 

"Oh,  can't  you?"  and  she  sounded  so  disap 
pointed  ;  "  I  hoped  you  could  persuade  Mrs.  Schuy- 
ler  not  to  have  him." 

"  But  Mrs.  Schuyler  doesn't  want  him,  either !  " 
I  exclaimed.  "  It's  those  two  sisters  who  insist  on 
getting  him.  And  I  never  could  turn  their  wills, 
try  as  I  might." 

"  Why  doesn't  Mrs.  Schuyler  want  him  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I'm  not  sure  that  she  really  objects  to  the 
plan,  but,  I  mean  she  didn't  seem  as  anxious  as  the 
other  two.  You  see,  little  girl,  the  widow  of  Ran 
dolph  Schuyler  isn't  so  bitter  against  you  as  the  two 
sisters  are." 

"  That's  good  of  her,"  and  Vicky's  voice  was 
wistful.  "  But,  you  know  I  must  remain  in 
hiding " 

"  I  thought  you  were  going  to  leave  New  York?  " 

"I  am.  And  at  once.  But  if  that  Mr.  Stone 
gets  on  my  trail,  he'll  find  me,  as  sure  as  fate.  And 


FLEMING  STONE  183 

so  I  risked  this  interview  to  try  to  persuade  you  to 
use  your  influence  against  his  coming." 

"  And  I'll  do  that,"  I  returned,  heartily.  "  But 
I  feel  that  I  ought  to  tell  you  that  I  doubt  my  power 
to  dissuade  the  Schuyler  sisters  from  their  determi- 
nation,  And,  too,  how  did  you  know  they  thought 
of  getting  him?  " 

"  Oh,  I  see  all  the  papers,  you  know,  and  in  one 
of  them  a  reporter  gave  a  personal  interview  with 
the  Schuyler  people,  and  they  hinted  at  getting  that 
man." 

Vicky  sighed  wearily,  as  if  her  last  hope  was 
gone.  I  was  full  of  questions  I  wanted  to  ask  her, 
but  it  seemed  intrusive  and  unkind  to  quiz  her.  And 
yet,  one  thing  I  felt  I  must  say.  I  must  ask  her 
what  she  knew  of  the  actual  crime. 

"  Tell  me,"  I  blurted  out,  "  who  did  kill  Ran 
dolph  Schuyler?" 

Again  I  felt  her  tremble,  and  her  voice  quivered 
as  she  whispered  back,  "  It  must  have  been  some 
enemy  of  his,  who  got  in  at  the  window,  or  some 
thing  like  that." 

My  heart  fell.  This  was  the  sort  of  thing  she 
would  say  if  she  were  herself  the  guilty  one.  I 
had  hoped  for  a  more  sincere,  even  if  despairing, 
answer. 

"  But  I  must  send  you  away,"  she  breathed  in 


184  VICKY  VAN 

my  ear.  We  were  standing  just  inside  the  room, 
and  Vicky  held  her  hand  on  a  chair-back  for  sup 
port.  There  was  the  faintest  light  from  the  street, 
enough  for  us  to  distinguish  one  another's  forms, 
but  no  more.  Vicky  wore  a  street  gown  of  some 
sort,  and  a  long  cloak.  On  her  head  was  a  small  hat, 
and  a  black  net  veil.  This  was  tied  so  tightly  that 
it  interfered  a  little  with  her  speech,  I  thought, 
though  when  I  had  looked  at  her  face  by  my  flash 
light,  the  veil  had  not  been  of  sufficient  thickness  to 
conceal  her  features  at  all.  I've  often  wondered  why 
women  wear  those  uncomfortable  things.  She  kept 
pulling  it  away  from  her  lips  as  she  talked. 

"  I  want  my  address  book,"  she  went  on,  hur 
riedly.  "  I've  looked  all  over  for  it,  and  it's  gone. 
Did  the  detective  take  it?  " 

"  I  think  he  did,"  I  replied,  remembering  Low- 
ney's  searcfi. 

"  Can't  you  get  it  back  for  me?  " 

"  Look  here,  child,  what  do  you  think  I  am?  A 
magician?  " 

"  No,  but  I  thought  you  could  manage  some 
how  to  get  it,"  her  voice  showed  the  adorable  petu 
lance  that  distinguished  Vicky  Van ;  "  and  then,  you 
could  send  it  to  me " 

"Where?"  I  cried,  eagerly.  "Where  shall  I 
address  you?  " 


FLEMING  STONE  185 

"  I  can't  tell  you  that.  But  you  can  bring  it 
here  and  leave  it  in  the  Chinese  jar,  and  I  will 
get  it." 

"  How  do  you  come  in  and  go  out  of  this  house 
without  being  seen?"  I  demanded.  "By  the  area 
door?" 

"  Perhaps  so,"  and  she  spoke  lightly.  "  And 
perhaps  by  a  window,  and  maybe  by  means  of  an 
aeroplane  and  down  through  the  skylight." 

"  Not  that,"  I  said,  "  the  skylight  is  fastened  on 
the  inside,  and  has  been  ever  since — ever  since  that 
night." 

"  Well,  then  I  don't  come  that  way.  But  if 
you'll  get  that  book  and  put  it  in  the  big  vase,  I'll 
come  and  get  it.  When  will  it  be  there?  " 

"  You're  crazy  to  think  I  can  get  it,"  I  returned, 
slowly,  "  but  if  I  can  I  will.  Give  me  a  few 
days " 

"  A  week,  if  you  like.  Shall  we  say  a  week 
from  to-night  ?  " 

"  Next  Monday?  Yes.  If  I  can  get  it  at  all,  I 
can  have  it  by  then.  How  shall  I  let  you  know?  " 

"  You  needn't  let  me  know,  for  I  know  now  you 
will  get  it.  Steal  it  from  Mr.  Lowney,  if  you  can't 
get  it  otherwise." 

"  But  if  Fleming  Stone  is  on  your  trail,  will  you 
come  for  the  book?  " 


186  VICKY  VAN 

"  I  must,"  she  spoke  gravely.  "  I  must  have 
the  book.  It  means  everything  to  me.  I  must 
have  it !  " 

:f  Then  you  shall,  if  I  can  manage  it.  It  is  your 
book,  it  has  proved  of  no  value  as  evidence,  you  may 
as  well  have  it." 

"  Yes,  I  may  as  well  have  it.  And  now,  Mr. 
Calhoun,  will  you  go,  please,  or  do  you  intend  to 
turn  me  over  to  the  police?  " 

"Vicky!"  I  cried,  "how  can  you  say  such  a 
thing?  Of  course  I'll  go,  if  you  bid  me.  But  let 
me  wait  a  minute.  You  know  you  wrote  to  Ruth 
Schuyler " 

"  Ruth?    Is  that  one  of  the  old  sisters?  " 

"  No.     Ruth  is  the  widow." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  wrote  to  her.  I  didn't  know  her 
first  name.  I  wrote  because  I  thought  it  was  she 
who  is  making  the  desperate  search  for  me,  and  I 
hoped  I  could  influence  her  to  stop  it.  That's  all.  I 
have  no  interest  in  Randolph  Schuyler's  widow,  ex 
cept  as  she  affects  my  future,  but  can  you  do  any 
thing  by  working  in  the  other  direction?  I  mean 
can  you  dissuade  Fleming  Stone  from  coming,  by 
asking  him  not  to?  You  can  bribe  him  perhaps — 
I  have  money " 

"  Oh,  I  doubt  if  I  could  do  anything  like  that. 
But  I'll  try,  I'll  try  every  way  I  can,  and,  if  I  suc 
ceed — how  shall  I  let  you  know  ?  " 


FLEMING  STONE  187 

"  Oh,  I'll  know.  If  he  takes  up  the  matter,  it 
will  probably  get  into  the  papers,  and  if  I  see  noth 
ing  of  it,  I'll  conclude  you  succeeded." 

''  But  I — I  want  to  see  you  again,  Vicky " 

"  Oh,  no,  you  don't.  Why,  you  don't  know 
this  minute  but  what  I  stabbed  that  man,  and " 

"  You  didn't,  Vicky — tell  me  you  didn't !  " 

"  I  can't  tell  you  that.  I  can't  tell  you  anything. 
I  am  the  most  miserable  girl  on  God's  earth !  "  and 
I  heard  tears  in  Vicky's  voice,  and  a  sob  choked  her 
utterance. 

"  Now  go,"  she  said,  after  a  moment,  "  I  can't 
stand  any  more.  Please  go,  and  do  what  you  can 
for  me,  without  getting  yourself  into  trouble.  Go, 
and  don't  look  back  to  see  how  I  make  my  exit,  will 
you?" 

"  Indeed,  I  won't  do  that.  Your  confidences  are 
safe  with  me,  Vicky,  and  I  will  do  all  in  my  power 
to  help  you,  in  any  way  I  can." 

"  Then  go  now,"  she  said,  and  a  gentle  pressure 
of  her  hand  on  my  arm  urged  me  toward  the  door. 

I  went  without  another  word,  and  neither  while 
in  the  street,  nor  after  gaining  my  own  house,  did  I 
look  back  for  another  glimpse  of  Vicky  Van. 

And  yet,  try  as  I  would,  maneuver  as  I  might, 
I  couldn't  prevent  the  arrival  of  Fleming  Stone. 

The  Schuyler  sisters  were  determined  to  have 


188  VICKY  VAN 

the  great  detective,  and  though  Mrs.  Schuyler  wasn't 
so  anxious,  yet  she  raised  not  the  slightest  objection, 
and  after  some  persuasion,  Stone  agreed  to  take  the 
case. 

I  was  present  at  his  first  call  to  discuss  details 
and  was  immensely  interested  in  my  first  sight  of 
the  man. 

Tall,  well- formed,  and  of  a  gravely  courteous 
manner,  he  impressed  me  as  the  most  magnetically 
attractive  man  I  had  ever  seen.  His  iron-gray  hair 
and  deep-set,  dark  eyes  gave  him  a  dignity  that  I 
had  never  before  associated  with  my  notions  of  a 
detective. 

The  Schuyler  sisters  were  frankly  delighted  with 
him. 

"  I  know  you'll  run  down  the  murderer  of  my 
brother,"  Miss  Rhoda  exulted,  while  Miss  Sarah 
began  to  babble  volubly  of  what  she  called  clues 
and  evidence. 

Fleming  Stone  listened  politely,  now  and  then 
asking  a  direct  question  and  sometimes  turning  to 
Ruth  Schuyler  for  further  information. 

As  I  watched  him  closely,  it  occurred  to  me  that 
he  really  paid  little  attention  to  what  the  women 
said,  he  was  more  engaged  in  scanning  their  faces 
and  noting  their  attitudes.  Perhaps  I  imagined  it, 
but  I  thought  he  was  sizing  up  their  characters  and 


FLEMING  STONE  189 

their  sympathies,  and  intended  looking  up  his  clues 
and  evidence  by  himself. 

"  The  first  thing  to  do,"  he  declared,  at  last,  "  is 
to  find  Miss  Van  Allen." 

This  was  what  I  had  feared,  and  remembering 
my  promise  to  Vicky  I  said,  "  I  think  that  will  be 
impossible,  Mr.  Stone.  She  wrote  she  was  leaving 
New  York  forever." 

"  But  a  householder  like  that  can't  go  away  for 
ever,"  Stone  said,  "  she  must  look  after  her  goods 
and  chattels,  and  she  must  pay  her  rent — 

"  No,  she  owns  the  house." 

"  Must  pay  the  taxes,  then.  Must  sell  it,  or  rent 
it  or  do  something  with  it." 

"  It  would  seem  so,"  I  agreed.  "  And  yet,  if  one 
is  wanted  for  murder  one  would  sacrifice  house 
hold  goods  and  the  house  itself  in  order  to  escape 
being  caught." 

"  True,"  and  Stone  nodded  his  head.  "  But, 
still,  I  fancy  she  would  return  for  something.  Few 
women  could  leave  their  home  like  that,  and  not 
have  some  valuables  or  some  secret  papers  or  some 
thing  for  which  they  must  return.  I  venture  to  say 
Miss  Van  Allen  has  already  been  back  to  her  house, 
more  than  once,  on  secret  errands." 

Was  the  man  a  clairvoyant?  How  could  he 
know  that  Vicky  had  done  this  very  thing?  But  I 


190  VICKY  VAN 

realized  at  once,  that  he  knew  it,  not  from  cog 
nizance  of  facts,  but  from  his  prescience  of  what 
would  necessarily  follow  in  such  a  case. 

"  She  has  her  keys,  of  course?  "  he  asked. 

The  police  have  charge  of  the  keys,"  I  said,  a 
little  lamely. 

"  I  know,"  Stone  said,  impatiently,  "  but  there 
are  doubtless  more  keys  than  the  ones  they  have.  I 
should  say,  that  Miss  Van  Allen  took  at  least  the 
key  of  one  door  with  her,  however  hurried  her 
flight." 

"  It  may  be  so,"  I  conceded.  "  But,  granting 
she  has  been  back  and  forth  on  the  errands  you 
suggest,  it  is  not  likely  she  will  keep  it  up." 

"  No,  it  is  not.  And  especially  if  she  learns  I 
am  on  the  case." 

"How  could  she  know  that?"  Ruth  Schuyler 
asked. 

"  I'm  sure  Miss  Van  Allen  is  a  most  clever  and 
ingenious  young  woman,"  Stone  replied,  "  and  I 
feel  sure  she  knows  all  that  is  going  on.  She  gets 
information  from  the  papers,  and,  too,  she  has  that 
dependable  maid,  Julie.  That  woman,  probably  dis 
guised,  can  do  much  in  the  way  of  getting  informa 
tion  as  to  how  matters  are  progressing.  You  see, 
I've  followed  the  case  all  the  way  along,  and  the 


FLEMING  STONE  191 

peculiarities  and  unique  conditions  of  it  are  what 
induced  me  to  take  it  up." 

"  Shall  we  offer  a  reward,  Mr.  Stone,  for  the 
discovery  of  the  hiding  place  of  Miss  Van  Allen?  " 
asked  Rhoda,  eagerly.  "  I  want  to  use  every  pos 
sible  means  of  finding  her." 

"  Not  yet,  Miss  Schuyler.  Let  us  try  other 
plans  first.  But  I  must  enjoin  utter  secrecy  about 
my  connection  with  the  matter.  Not  the  fact  that  I 
am  at  work  on  it,  but  the  developments  or  details 
of  my  work.  It  is  a  most  unusual,  a  most  peculiar 
case,  and  I  must  work  unimpeded  by  outside  advice 
or  interference.  I  may  say,  I've  never  known  of  a 
case  which  presented  such  extraordinary  features, 
and  features  which  will  either  greatly  simplify  or 
greatly  impede  my  progress." 

"  Just  what  do>  you  mean  by  that  last  remark, 
Mr.  Stone?"  asked  Ruth  Schuyler,  who  had  been 
listening  intently. 

"  I  mean  that  the  absolutely  mysterious  disap 
pearance  of  the  young  woman  will  either  be  of  easy 
and  simple  solution,  or  else  it  will  prove  an  in 
soluble  mystery.  There  will  be  no  half-way  work 
about  it.  If  I  can't  learn  the  truth  in  a  short  time, 
I  fear  I  never  can." 

"  How  strange,"  said  I.  "  Do  you  often  feel 
thus  about  the  beginning  of  a  case?  " 


192  VICKY  VAN 

"  Very  rarely,  almost  never.  And  never  have  I 
felt  it  so  strongly  as  in  this  instance.  To  trace  that 
girl  is  not  a  matter  of  long  and  patient  search,  it's 
rather  a  question  of  a  bit  of  luck  or  a  slight  slip  on 
her  part,  or — well — of  some  coincidence  or  chance 
discovery  that  will  clear  things  at  one  flash." 

"Then  you're  depending  on  luck?"  exclaimed 
Rhoda,  in  a  disappointed  tone. 

"  Oh,  not  that,"  and  Stone  smiled.  "  At  least, 
I'm  not  depending  entirely  on  that.  If  luck  comes 
my  way,  so  much  the  better.  And  now,  please  let 
me  see  the  notes  Miss  Van  Allen  has  written." 

None  was  available,  however,  except  the  one  to 
Ruth  Schuyler.  For  the  one  to  Randolph  Schuyler 
was  in  Lowney's  possession,  and  the  one  I  had  had 
from  Vicky,  and  which  was  even  then  in  my  pocket, 
I  had  no  intention  of  showing. 

It  was  not  necessary,  however,  for  Fleming 
Stone  said  one  was  enough  to  gather  all  that  he 
could  learn  from  her  chirography. 

He  studied  it  attentively,  but  only  for  a  moment. 
Then  he  said,  "  A  characteristic  penmanship,  but  to 
me  it  only  shows  forcefulness,  ingenuity  and  good 
nature.  However,  I'm  not  an  expert,  I  only  get  a 
general  impression,  and  the  traits  I've  mentioned 
are  undoubtedly  to  be  found  in  the  lady's  nature. 


FLEMING  STONE  193 

Are  they  not?  "  and  he  turned  to  me,  as  to  one  who 
knew. 

"  They  are,"  I  replied,  "  so  far  as  I  know  Miss 
Van  Allen.  But  my  acquaintance  with  her  is  limited, 
and  I  can  only  agree  superficially. 

Stone  eyed  me  closely,  and  I  began  to  feel  a 
little  uncomfortable  under  his  gaze.  Clearly,  I'd 
have  to  tell  the  truth,  or  incur  his  suspicion.  Nor 
did  I  wish  to  prevaricate.  I  felt  friendly  toward 
poor  little  Vicky,  and  yet,  I  had  no  mind  to  run 
counter  to  the  interest  of  Ruth  Schuyler.  The  two 
sisters  I  didn't  worry  about,  and  indeed,  they  could 
look  out  for  themselves.  But  Ruth  Schuyler  was 
in  a  position  to  demand  justice,  and  if  that  justice 
accused  Vicky  Van,  I  must  be  honest  and  fair  to 
both  in  my  testimony. 

Fleming  Stone  proceeded  to  question  the  women, 
more  definitely  and  concisely  now,  and  by  virtue 
of  his  marvellous  efficiency,  he  so  shaped  his  in 
quiries,  that  he  learned  details  with  accuracy  and 
rapidity. 

It  would  never  have  occurred  to  me  to  ask  the 
questions  that  he  put,  but  as  he  went  on,  I  saw 
their  pertinence  and  value. 

With  Ruth's  permission  he  called  several  of  the 
servants  and  asked  them  a  few  things.  Nothing  of 
moment  transpired,  to  my  mind,  but  Stone  was  in- 

13 


194  VICKY  VAN 

terested  in  a  full  account  of  where  each  servant 
was  and  what  he  was  doing  on  the  night  of  the 
murder.  Each  gave  a  straightforward  and  satis 
factory  account,  and  I  realized  that  Stone  was  only 
getting  a  sense  of  the  household  atmosphere,  and 
its  relations  to  Mr.  Schuyler  himself. 

Tibbetts,  the  middle-aged  maid  of  Ruth  Schuy 
ler,  told  of  the  shock  to  her  mistress  when  the  news 
was  brought. 

"  Mrs.  Schuyler  had  retired,"  said  Tibbetts, 
"  at  about  ten  o'clock,  Mr.  Schuyler  was  out,  and 
was  not  expected  home  until  late.  I  attended  her, 
and  after  she  was  in  bed,  I  went  to  bed  myself." 

"  I'm  told  you  do  not  live  here,"  commented 
Stone,  though  in  a  disinterested  way,  and  at  the 
same  time  making  notes  of  some  other  matters  in 
his  notebook. 

"  I  have  a  room  around  on  Third  Avenue,"  re 
plied  Tibbetts.  "  I  like  a  little  home  of  my  own, 
and  when  Mrs.  Schuyler  permits  me,  I  go  'round 
there  to  sleep,  and  sometimes  I  go  in  the  daylight 
hours.  But  on  that  night  I  happened  to  be  staying 
here." 

"  Tibbetts  is  rather  a  privileged  character,"  in 
terposed  Ruth.  "  She  has  been  with  me  for  many 
years,  and  as  she  likes  a  little  place  of  her  own,  I 
adopted  the  plan  of  which  she  has  told  you." 


FLEMING  STONE  195 

"  But  that  night  you  were  here  ?  "  said  Stone,  to 
the  maid. 

"  Yes,  sir.  I  slept  in  Mrs.  Schuyler's  dressing 
room,  as  I  always  do  when  I'm  here.  Then  when 
Jepson  told  me  the — the  awful  news,  I  awoke  Mrs. 
Schuyler  and  told  her." 

"  Yes,"  said  Stone.  "  I  read  all  about  that  in 
the  inquest  report." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

WALLS  HAVE  TONGUES 

"  Now,"  said  Fleming  Stone,  after  he  had 
learned  all  he  desired  from  the  Schuyler  household, 
"  now,  if  you  please,  I  would  like  to  go  over  the 
Van  Allen  house.  You  have  the  keys,  Mr. 
Calhoun?" 

"  I  have  a  latchkey  to  the  street  door,"  I  re 
plied,  "  the  rooms  are  not  locked. 

I  don't  know  why  exactly,  but  I  hated  to  have 
him  go  through  Vicky  Van's  house.  Of  course,  it 
must  have  been  because  she  had  begged  me  not  to 
let  Stone  get  into  the  case  at  all.  But  I  hadn't  been 
able  to  prevent  that,  the  two  Schuyler  sisters  being 
determined  to  have  him.  And  I  had  no  desire 
to  impede  justice  or  stand  in  the  way  of  law  and 
order,  but,  somehow  or  other,  I  felt  the  invasion 
of  Vicky's  home  would  bring  about  trouble 
for  the  girl,  and  my  mind  was  filled  with  vague 
foreboding. 

"  We  will  go  with  you,"  announced  Miss  Rhoda. 
"  I've  wanted  to  see  that  house  from  the  first.  You'll 
go,  Ruth?  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  and  Ruth  Schuyler  shrank  at  the 

196 


WALLS  HAVE  TONGUES  197 

idea.  "  I've  no  wish  to  see  the  place  where  my  hus 
band  was  killed !  How  could  you  think  of  it?  If  I 
could  do  any  good  by  going " 

"  No,  Mrs.  Schuyler,"  said  Fleming  Stone,  "  you 
could  do  no  good,  and  I  quite  understand  why  you 
would  rather  not  go.  The  Misses  Schuyler  and  Mr. 
Calhoun  will  accompany  me,  and  we  will  start  at 
once." 

"  Can't  I  go?  "  asked  Winnie,  who  had  come  in 
recently,  "  I'm  just  crazy  to  see  that  house.  You 
don't  mind  my  going,  do  you,  Ruth  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed,  child.     I'm  perfectly  willing." 

Mr.  Stone  raised  no  objection,  so  Winnie  went 
with  us. 

It  was  nearly  five  o'clock,  full  daylight,  though 
the  dusk  was  just  beginning  to  fall.  We  went 
round  to  Vicky  Van's  and  I  opened  the  door  for  the 
party  to  enter. 

The  house  had  begun  to  show  disuse.  There 
was  dust  on  the  shining  surfaces  of  the  furniture 
and  on  the  polished  floors.  The  clocks  had  all 
stopped  and  the  musty  chill  of  a  closed  house  was  in 
the  atmosphere. 

"  Ugh!  "  cried  Winnie,  "  what  a  creepy  feeling! 
And  this  house  is  too  pretty  to  be  so  neglected! 
Why,  it's  a  darling  house.  Look  at  that  heavenly 
color  scheme !  " 


VICKY  VAN 

Winnie  had  darted  into  the  living-room,  with 
its  rose  and  gray  appointments,  and  we  all  followed 
her. 

"  Don't  touch  anything,  Miss  Calhoun,"  cau 
tioned  Stone,  and  Win  contented  herself  with  gaz 
ing  about,  her  hands  clasped  behind  her. 

The  Schuyler  sisters  sniffed,  and  though  they 
said  little,  they  conveyed  the  idea  that  to  their  minds 
the  bijou  residence  savored  of  reprehensible 
frivolity. 

Fleming  Stone  lived  up  to  his  reputation  as  a 
detective,  and  scrutinized  everything  with  quick, 
comprehensive  glances.  We  went  through  the  long 
living-room,  and  into  the  dining-room,  whose  pale 
green  and  silver  again  enchanted  Winnie. 

"  The  walls  are  exquisite,"  Stone  agreed,  look 
ing  closely  at  the  panels  of  silk  brocade,  framed 
with  a  silver  tracery. 

"If  walls  have  ears,  they  must  burn  at  your 
praise,"  I  said,  in  an  effort  to  speak  lightly,  for 
Stone's  face  had  an  ominous  look,  as  if  he  were 
learning  grave  truths. 

"  Walls  not  only  have  ears,  they  have  tongues," 
he  returned.  "  These  walls  have  already  told  me 
much  of  Miss  Van  Allen's  character." 

"Oh,  how?"  cried  Winnie,  "do  tell  us  how 
you  deduce  and  all  that !  " 


WALLS  HAVE  TONGUES  199 

I  looked  hastily  at  Stone,  thinking  he  might  be 
annoyed  by  Winnie's  volatile  speech. 

But  he  said  kindly,  "  To  the  trained  eye,  Miss 
Calhoun,  much  is  apparent  that  escapes  the  casual 
observer.  But  you  can  understand  that  the  taste 
displayed  in  the  wall  decoration,  shows  a  refined 
and  cultured  nature.  A  woman  of  the  adventuress 
type  would  prefer  more  garish  display.  Of  course, 
I  am  generalizing,  but  there  is  much  to  bear  me  out. 
Then,  I  see,  by  certain  tiny  marks  and  cracks,  that 
these  walls  have  lately  been  done  over,  and  that  they 
were  also  redecorated  another  time  not  long  before. 
This  proves  that  Miss  Van  Allen  has  money  enough 
to  gratify  her  whims  and  she  chooses  to  spend  it  in 
satisfying  her  aesthetic  preferences.  Further,  the 
walls  have  been  carefully  cared  for,  showing  an  in 
terested  and  capable  housekeeperly  instinct  and  traits 
of  extreme  orderliness  and  tidiness.  Cleverness, 
even,  for  here,  you  see,  is  a  place,  where  a  bit  of 
the  plaster  has  been  defaced  by  a  knock  or  scratch, 
and  it  has  been  delicately  painted  over  with  a  little 
pale  green  paint  which  matches  exactly.  It  is  not 
the  work  of  a  professional  decorator,  so  reason  tells 
me  that  probably  Miss  Van  Allen  herself  remedied 
the  defect." 

"  Good  gracious !  "  exclaimed  Winnie,  "  I  can 


200  VICKY  VAN 

see  all  that  myself,  now  you  tell  me,  but  I  never 
should  have  thought  of  it !  Tell  me  more." 

"  Then  the  pictures,  which  are  so  well  chosen 
and  placed,  that  they  seem  part  of  the  walls,  are,  as 
you  notice,  all  figure  pieces.  There  are  no  landscapes. 
This,  of  course,  means  that  Miss  Van  Allen  is  not 
distinctly  a  nature  lover,  but  prefers  humanity  and 
society.  This  argues  for  the  joy  of  living  and  the 
appreciation  of  mental  pleasures  and  occupations. 
No  devotee  of  nature  would  have  failed  to  have 
pictures  of  flowers  or  harmonizing  landscapes  on 
these  walls.  So,  you  see,  to  be  edified  by  the  tongues 
of  walls,  you  must  not  only  listen  to  them  but  under 
stand  their  language." 

And  then  Stone  began  taking  in  the  rest  of  the 
dining-room's  contents.  The  table,  hastily  cleared 
by  the  caterer's  men,  was  empty  of  the  china  and 
glass  which  they  had  supplied,  but  still  retained  the 
candlesticks  and  epergnes  that  were  Vicky  Van's 
own.  These  were  of  plated  silver,  not  sterling, 
which  fact  Stone  noted.  The  lace-trimmed  linen, 
however,  was  of  the  finest  and  most  elaborate  sort. 

"  An  unholy  waste  of  money !  "  declared  Rhoda 
Schuyler,  looking  at  the  marvellous  monogram  of 
V.  V.  A.  embroidered  on  the  napkins. 

But  I  gazed  sadly  at  the  table,  only  partially 


WALLS  HAVE  TONGUES  201 

dismantled,  which  had  been  so  gaily  decked  for 
Vicky's  birthday  supper. 

Scanning  the  sideboard,  Stone  remarked  the 
absence  of  the  small  carving  knife.  I  told  him  I, 
too,  had  observed  that,  and  that  I  had  made  search 
for  it. 

"  Did  you  ask  the  caterer's  people  if  they  took 
it  by  mistake?  "  said  the  detective. 

"  No,"  I  admitted,  ashamed  that  I  hadn't  thought 
of  it,  and  I  promised  to  do  so. 

As  Stone  stood,  silently  contemplating  the  place 
where  Randolph  Schuyler  had  met  his  death,  I 
stepped  out  into  the  hall.  I  had  no  conscious  reason 
for  doing  so,  but  I  did,  and  chancing  to  glance  to 
ward  the  stairs,  I  with  difficulty  repressed  an 
exclamation. 

For  half-way  up  the  staircase,  I  saw  Vicky  Van ! 

I  was  sure  it  was  no  hallucination,  I  positively 
saw  her!  She  was  leaning  over  the  banister,  lis 
tening  to  what  Stone  was  saying.  Suddenly,  even 
as  I  looked,  she  ran  upstairs  and  disappeared. 

Was  she  safe?  Could  she  escape?  Perhaps  by 
a  back  staircase,  or  could  she  manage  to  elude  us 
and  slip  away  somehow? 

Then  I  was  conscience-stricken.  Was  I  conniv 
ing  at  the  escape  of  a  guilty  person?  Did  I  want  to 
do  this?  I  didn't  know.  Something  told  me  I 


202  VICKY  VAN 

must  tell  Stone  of  her  presence,  and  yet  something 
else  made  it  impossible  for  me  to  do  so. 

I  turned  back  to  the  dining-room,  and  Miss 
Sarah  was  saying,  "  That's  the  spot,  then,  that's 
where  Randolph  was  killed  by  that  awful  woman! 
Mr.  Stone  you  must  get  her !  An  eye  for  an  eye — 
a  life  for  a  life!  She  must  pay  the  penalty  of  her 
guilt!" 

Winnie  was  listening,  and  tears  stood  in  her 
eyes.  Like  Ruth  Schuyler,  from  whom  she  doubt 
less  took  a  cue,  Win  wasn't  so  ready  to  condemn 
Vicky  Van  unheard,  as  the  two  sisters  were.  She 
looked  steadily  at  Fleming  Stone,  as  if  expecting 
him  to  produce  Vicky  then  and  there,  and  I  quivered 
with  the  thought  of  what  would  happen  if  he  knew 
that  even  at  that  moment  Vicky  was  under  the  same 
roof  with  ourselves! 

But  Stone  completed  his  survey  of  the  dining- 
room,  and  as  a  matter  of  course,  started  next  up  the 
stairs.  I  pushed  ahead  a  little,  in  my  eagerness  to 
precede  him,  but  a  vague  desire  to  protect  Vicky 
urged  me  on.  I  stood  in  the  upper  hall  as  the  rest 
came  up,  and  I  imagined  that  Stone  gave  me  a  curi 
ous  glance  as  he  noted  my  evident  embarrassment. 

But  Winnie  dashed  into  the  music  room,  and  the 
Schuyler  sisters  quickly  followed.  Trust  a  woman 
to  feel  and  show  curiosity  about  her  neighbor's 
home! 


WALLS  HAVE  TONGUES  203 

Again  Stone  examined  the  walls,  but  the  im 
maculate  white  and  gold  sides  of  the  music  room 
said  nothing  intelligible  to  me,  and  if  they  spoke  to 
him  he  did  not  divulge  the  message.  The  women 
exclaimed  at  the  beautiful  room,  and,  as  Stone's  ex 
amination  here  was  short,  we  all  filed  back  to  Vicky's 
bedroom. 

I  heard  no  sound  of  her,  and  I  breathed  more 
freely,  as  we  did  not  find  her  in  bedroom  or  in  the 
boudoir  beyond.  She  had,  then,  succeeded  in  getting 
away,  and  trusted  to  me  not  to  betray  her  presence 
there. 

The  boudoir  or  dressing-room,  all  pink  satin  and 
white  enameled  wicker  called  forth  new  exclama 
tions  from  Winnie,  and  even  Rhoda  Schuyler  ex 
pressed  a  grudging  admiration. 

"  It  is  beautiful,"  she  conceded.  "  I  wish  Ruth 
had  come,  after  all.  She  loves  this  sort  of  furni 
ture.  Don't  you  remember,  Sarah,  she  wanted  Ran 
dolph  to  do  up  her  dressing-room  in  wicker?  " 

"  Yes,  but  he  didn't  like  it,  he  said  it  was  gim- 
crackery.  And  the  Circassian  walnut  of  Ruth's 
room  is  much  handsomer." 

"  Of  course  it  is.  Ruth  has  a  charming  suite. 
Oh,  do  look  at  the  dresses !  " 

Fleming  Stone  had  flung  open  a  wardrobe  door, 
and  the  costumes  disclosed,  though  not  numerous, 


204  VICKY  VAN 

were  of  beautiful  coloring  and  design.  Winnie,  un 
able  to  resist  the  temptation,  fingered  them  lovingly, 
and  called  my  attention  to  certain  wonderful 
confections. 

"  What  did  she  wear  the  night  of  the  crime?  " 
Stone  asked,  and  I  told  him.  Having  Win  for  a 
sister,  I  am  fairly  good  at  describing  women's 
clothes,  and  I  drew  a  vivid  word  picture  of  Vicky's 
gold  fringed  gown. 

"  Heavenly !  "  exclaimed  Winnie,  although  she 
had  had  me  describe  the  gown  to  her  on  the  average 
of  twice  a  day  for  a  week.  "  I  wish  I  could  see  it! 
Some  day,  Chet,  I'm  going  to  have  one  like  it." 

"  Fringe  ?  "  said  Stone,  curiously,  "  do  women 
wear  fringe  nowadays  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  I  responded.  "  But  it  was  a  long 
fringe  of  gilt  beads  that  really  formed  an  over 
dress  to  the  tulle  skirt.  Stay,  I've  a  piece  of  it," 
and  I  took  out  my  pocketbook.  "  See,  here  it  is.  I 
found  it  caught  in  those  gilded  leaves  at  the  lower 
corner  of  the  mirror  frame — that  long  dressing- 
mirror." 

They  all  looked  at  the  mirror,  which  hung  flat 
against  the  wall;  its  foliated  Florentine  frame  full 
of  irregular  protuberances. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Winnie,  nodding  her  head, 
"  I  know  just  how  she  stood  in  front  of  it,  whirling 


WALLS  HAVE  TONGUES,  205 

around  to  see  her  gown  from  all  sides,  like  this." 
Win  whirled  herself  around,  before  the  glass,  and 
succeeded  in  catching  a  bit  of  her  own  full  skirt  on 
the  frame. 

"  You  little  goose!  "  I  cried,  as  the  fabric  tore, 
"  we  don't  need  a  demonstration  at  the  expense  of 
your  frock !  " 

Fleming  Stone  was  studying  the  strand  of  gold 
fringe.  It  was  composed  of  tiny  beads,  of  varying 
shapes,  and  had  already  begun  to  ravel  into  shreds. 

"  I'll  keep  this,"  he  said,  and  willy-nilly,  I  lost 
my  little  souvenir  of  Vicky  Van.  But,  of  course, 
if  he  considered  it  evidence,  I  had  to  give  it  up,  and 
the  fact  of  doing  so,  partly  salved  my  conscience 
of  its  guilty  feeling  at  concealing  the  fact  of  Vicky's 
presence  in  her  own  house  just  then. 

And,  too,  I  said  to  myself,  Mr.  Stone  is  out  to 
find  her.  Surely  a  detective  of  his  calibre  can  ac 
complish  that  without  help  of  an  humble  layman! 
So  I  kept  my  own  counsel,  and  further  search,  of 
the  next  story,  and  later,  of  the  basement  rooms, 
gave  no  hint  of  Vicky's  presence  or  departure. 

Indeed,  I  began  to  wonder  if  I  had  really  seen 
her.  Could  she  have  been  so  clearly  in  my  mind, 
that  I  visualized  her  in  a  momnet  of  clairvoyance? 
My  reason  rebelled  at  this,  for  I  knew  I  saw  her,  as 
well  as  I  knew  I  was  alive.  She  had  on  the  same 


206  VICKY  VAN 

little  hat  in  which  I  had  last  seen  her.  She  had  on 
no  cloak,  and  her  tailor-made  street  dress  was  of  a 
dark  cloth.  I  couldn't  be  sure  how  she  got  away, 
for  the  basement  door  we  found  bolted  on  the  in 
side,  but  she  must  have  warily  evaded  and  eluded 
us  and  slipped  here  and  there  as  we  pursued  our 
course  through  the  house,  and  then  have  gone  out 
by  the  front  door  when  we  were,  say,  on  the  upper 
floors. 

Returning  to  Vicky's  boudoir,  where  her  little 
writing-desk  was,  Fleming  Stone  began  to  run  over 
the  letters  and  papers  therein. 

It  was  locked,  but  he  picked  the  flimsy  fastening 
and  calmly  took  up  the  task  with  his  usual  quick- 
moving,  efficient  manner. 

I  stayed  with  him,  and  the  three  women  wan 
dered  back  over  the  house  again.  He  ran  through 
letters  with  glancing  quickness,  flipped  over  sheafs 
of  bills,  and  examined  pens,  ink  and  paper. 

"  There's  so  much  that's  characteristic  about  a 
desk,"  he  said,  as  he  observed  the  penwiper,  stamps, 
pin-tray,  and  especially  the  pencils.  "  Indeed,  I  feel 
now  that  I  know  Miss  Van  Allen  as  well,  if  not 
better  than  you  do  yourself,  Mr.  Calhoun." 

"  In  that  case,  then,  you  can't  believe  her  guilty," 
I  flashed  back,  for  the  very  atmosphere  of  the  dear 
little  room  made  me  more  than  ever  Vicky's  friend. 


WALLS  HAVE  TONGUES  207 

"  But  you  see,"  and  he  spoke  a  bit  sadly,  "  what 
I  know  of  her  is  the  real  woman.  I  can't  be  de 
ceived  by  her  wiles  and  coquetries.  I  see  only  the 
actual  traces  of  her  actual  self." 

I  knew  what  he  meant,  and  there  was  some  truth 
in  it.  For  Vicky  was  a  mystery,  and  I  was  not 
by  any  means  sure,  that  she  didn't  hoodwink  us 
when  she  chose  to.  Much  as  I  liked  and  admired 
the  girl,  I  was  forced  to  believe  she  was  not  alto 
gether  disingenuous.  And  she  was  clever  enough 
to  hoodwink  anybody.  But  if  Stone's  deductions 
were  to  be  depended  on,  they  were  doubtless  true 
evidence. 

"  Is  she  guilty?  "  I  sighed. 

"  I  can't  say  that,  yet,  but  I've  found  nothing 
that  absolutely  precludes  her  guilt.  On  the  contrary, 
I've  found  things,  which  if  she  is  guilty,  will  go  far 
toward  proving  it." 

This  sounded  a  bit  enigmatical,  but  Stone  was 
so  serious,  that  I  grasped  his  general  meaning  and 
let  it  go  at  that. 

"  I  mean,"  he  said,  divining  my  thoughts,  "  that 
things  may  or  may  not  be  evidence  according  to  the 
guilt  or  innocence  of  the  suspect.  If  you  find  a 
little  boy  in  the  pantry  beside  an  empty  jampot,  you 
suspect  him  of  stealing  jam.  Now,  if  lots  of  other 
circumstances  prove  that  child  did  take  the  jam,  the 


208  VICKY  VAN 

empty  pot  is  evidence.  But,  if  circumstances  develop 
that  convince  you  the  child  did  not  have  any  jam 
whatever,  that  day,  then  the  jampot  is  no  evidence 
at  all." 

"And  you  have  found  empty  jampots?"  i 
asked. 

"  I  have.  But,  so  far,  I'm  not  sure  that  they 
are  condemnatory  evidence.  Though,  in  justice  to 
my  own  work,  I  must  add,  that  they  have  every 
appearance  of  being  so." 

"  You  already  like  Vicky  Van,  then,"  I  said, 
quickly,  moved  to  do  so,  by  a  certain  note  of  regret 
in  his  voice. 

"  No  man  could  help  liking  a  woman  who  pos 
sesses  her  traits.  She  has  delightful  taste  and  tastes. 
She  is  most  charitable,  her  accounts  show  sums 
wisely  expended  on  worthy  charities.  And  letters 
from  friends  prove  her  a  truly  loyal  and  lovable 
character." 

"  Such  a  girl  couldn't  kill  a  man !  "  I  broke  out. 

"  Don't  say  that.  There  is  no  one  incapable  of 
crime.  But  such  a  nature  would  require  very  strong 
provocation  and  desperate  conditions.  These 
granted,  it  is  by  no  means  impossible.  Now,  I  am 
through  for  to-day,  but,  if  you  please  I  will  keep 
the  key  of  the  house.  As  the  case  is  now  in  my 
hands,  you  will  not  object?  " 


WALLS  HAVE  TONGUES  209 

"  No/'  I  said,  a  little  reluctantly.  For  suppos~ 
Vicky  should  give  me  another  commission  or  ask 
me  to  perform  another  errand  in  the  house. 

"  You  have  a  transparent  face,  Mr.  Calhoun," 
and  Fleming  Stone  smiled  quizzically.  "  Why  do 
you  want  to  keep  the  key  ?  " 

"  My  aunt  is  most  desirous  of  seeing  this  house," 
I  deliberately  prevaricated,  "  and  I  thought " 

But  I  didn't  deceive  the  astute  detective.  "No, 
that  isn't  it,"  he  said,  quietly.  "  I'm  not  sure,  but  I 
think  you  are  in  touch  with  Miss  Van  Allen." 

"And  if  I  am?  "I  flared  up. 

"  Very  well,"  he  returned,  "  it  is,  as  you  imply, 
none  of  my  business.  But  I  want  to  know  your 
attitude,  and  if  it  is  antagonistic  to  my  work,  I  am 
sorry,  but  I  will  conduct  my  course  accordingly." 

"  Mr.  Stone,"  I  confessed,  "  I  am  not  antagon 
istic,  but  I  do  know  a  little  about  Miss  Van  Allen's 
movements  that  I  haven't  told.  I  cannot  see  that 
it  would  assist  you  in  any  way  to  know  it " 

"  That's  enough,"  and  Fleming  Stone  spoke 
heartily.  "  Your  assurance  of  that  is  sufficient. 
Now,  are  we  working  together?" 

I  hesitated.  Then  I  suddenly  thought  of  Ruth 
Schuyler.  I  owed  her  a  business  fealty,  and  some 
how  I  liked  to  feel  that  I  also  owed  her  a  personal 
allegiance,  and  both  these  demanded  my  efforts  to 

14 


210  VICKY  VAN 

avenge  the  death  of  her  husband,  irrespective  of 
where  the  blow  might  fall. 

So  I  said,  honestly,  "  We  are,  Mr.  Stone.  I 
will  help  you,  if  I  can,  and  if  at  any  time  I  think 
my  withheld  information  will  help  you,  I  will  make 
it  known.  Is  that  satisfactory?  " 

"  Entirely  so,"  and  the  handshake  that  Stone 
gave  me  was  like  a  signed  and  sealed  bond,  to  which 
I  tacitly  but  none  the  less  truthfully  subscribed. 


CHAPTER  XV 

FIBSY 

NEXT  morning  as  I  started  for  my  office,  I 
found  myself  combating  a  strong  impulse  to  call 
in  at  Ruth  Schuyler's.  I  had  no  errand  there,  and 
I  knew  that  if  she  required  my  services  she  would 
summon  me.  It  was  no  longer  incumbent  on  me  to 
try  to  unravel  the  murder  mystery.  Fleming  Stone 
had  that  matter  in  charge,  and  his  master-mind 
needed  no  assistance  from  me. 

And  yet,  I  wanted  to  stop  at  the  Fifth  Avenue 
house,  if  only  for  a  moment,  to  reassure  myself  of 
Ruth's  well-being.  Though  above  me  in  social  rank, 
the  little  widow  seemed  to  me  a  lonely  and  pathetic 
woman,  and  I  knew  she  had  begun  to  depend  on  me 
for  advice  and  sympathy.  Of  course,  she  could  turn 
to  Fleming  Stone,  but,  in  a  way,  he  was  adviser  of 
the  Schuyler  sisters,  and  I  knew  Ruth  hesitated  to 
intrude  on  his  time. 

I  was  still  uncertain  whether  to  call  or  not,  and 
as  I  walked  along  the  few  feet  between  my  own 
house  and  the  Avenue,  I  crossed  the  street  as  I 
reached  Vicky  Van's  house,  and  naturally  looked  at 
k  as  I  passed. 

211 


212  VICKY  VAN 

And  after  I  had  passed  the  flight  of  brownstone 
steps,  and  was  going  along  by  the  iron  fence,  I 
turned  to  look  at  the  area  door.  This  was  my  per 
formance  every  morning,  and  always  without 
thought  of  seeing  anything  of  importance. 

But  this  time  the  area  door  stood  half-way  open, 
and  looking  out  was  a  boy,  a  red-headed  chap,  with 
a  freckled  face  and  bright,  wise  eyes. 

I  turned  quickly  and  went  in  at  the  area  gate. 

"  Who  are  you?  "  I  demanded,  "  and  what  are 
you  doing  here?  " 

"  I'm  Fibsy,"  he  said,  as  if  that  settled  it. 

"  Fibsy  who?  "  I  asked,  but  I  dropped  niy  indig 
nant  tone,  for  the  lad  seemed  to  be  composedly  sure 
of  his  rights  there. 

"  Aw,  jest  Fibsy.  That's  me  name,  because,  if 
you  want  to  know,  because  I'm  a  natural  born  liar 
and  I  fib  for  a  living." 

He  was  impudent  without  being  offensive;  his 
wide  smile  was  good-natured  and  the  twinkle  in  his 
eye  a  friendly  one. 

"  I  got  yer  number,"  he  said,  after  a  compre 
hensive  survey  of  my  person,  "  you're  C.  Calhoun. 
Ain't  you?" 

"  I  sure  am,"  I  agreed,  meeting  his  taste  for  the 
vernacular,  "  and  now  for  your  real  name." 

"  Terence  McGuire,"  he  smiled,  and  with  a  qtuick 


FIBSY  213 

gesture  he  snatched  off  his  cap.  "  C'mon  in,  if  you 
like.  I'm  F.  Stone's  right-hand  man." 

"  What !"  I  cried,  in  amazement. 

"  Yep,  that's  what.  I'm — well,  I  like  to*  call  my 
self  his  caddy.  I  follow  him  round,  and  hold  his 
clues  for  him,  till  he  wants  one,  then  I  hand  it  out. 
See?" 

"  Not  entirely.  But  I  gather  you're  in  Mr. 
Stone's  employ." 

"  You  bet  I  am !"  And  I'm  on  me  job  twenty- 
four  hours  a  day." 

"  And  what  is  your  job  just  now?  " 

"  Well,  since  eight  A.M.  I've  been  holdin'  up  this 
door,  waitin'  for  yer  honor  to  pass  by.  An'  I  got 
you,  didn't  I?" 

"  Yes,  I'm  here."  I  stepped  inside  and  the  boy 
closed  the  door.  We  went  into  the  front  basement 
room,  where  there  was  a  lighted  gas  stove. 

"  I  camp  here,  'count  o*  the  heats.  There's  no 
use  gettin'  up  the  steam  fer  the  few  casual  callers 
that  drops  in  at  present.  Now,  Mr.  Calhoun,  I  don't 
want  to  be  stuffy  nor  nuthin',  but  Mr.  Stone  said  I 
(might  ask  you  some  few  things,  if  I  liked  an'  you 
can  answer  or  not,  as  you  like.  This  ain't  no  orficial 
investigation,  but  I  s'pose  you're  as  incrusted  as 
anybody  in  findin'  this  here  Victoria  Van  Allen?  " 

"  I'm  interested  in  finding  the  murderer  of  Mr. 
Schuyler,"  I  replied. 


VICKY  VAN 

"  An'  maybe  they  ain't  one  an'  the  same.  That's 
so."  He  spoke  thoughtfully  and  scanned  my  face 
with  a  quizzical  glance.  "  But,  of  course,  Mr.  Stone'll 
find  out.  Now,  Mr.  Calhoun,  if  you  don't  mind,  will 
you  give  me  a  line  on  that  maid  person,  that  Julia?" 

"  Julie,  she  is  called." 

"  All  right,  Julie  goes.     Is  she  a  young  thing?  " 

"  No;  just  this  side  of  middle-aged.  Probably 
ithirty-five  or  so." 

"Good  looker?" 

"  Why,  about  average.  Brown  hair,  brownish 
eyes — really,  I  never  noticed  her  closely  enough  to 
think  about  her  appearance.  She  is,  I'm  sure,  a 
good  servant  and  devoted  to  Miss  Van  Allen." 

"  But  don't  you  know  anything  special  ?  Any 
thing  that  would  pick  her  out  from  a  lot  of  other 
good  servants  ?  " 

"  In  appearance,  you  mean?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  I  can't  think  of  anything.  Let  me  see.  She 
wears  glasses " 

"What  sort?" 

"  I  don't  know.    Just  ordinary  glasses,  I  guess." 

"  Spectacles  or  nose-riders?  " 

"  I'm  not  sure.  Spectacles,  I  think.  And  she 
has  a  great  many  gold-filled  teeth." 

"  Front  ones?  " 


FIBSY  215 

"Yes,  that  is,  they're  very  noticeable  when  she 
speaks  to  you." 

"  Well,  that's  sumpum.  Is  she  quick  and  spry- 
like,  or  poky?  " 

I  smiled  at  the  boy's  eagerness.  "  She's  rather 
alert,"  I  said,  "  but,  of  course,  quiet  and  respectful. 
I  never  looked  at  her  with  any  personal  interest,  so  I 
can  only  give  you  my  general  impressions." 

"  You  see,  it's  this  way,"  and  the  boy  looked 
very  serious,  "  wherever  Miss  Van  Allen  is,  that 
Julie's  there,  too.  And  when  Miss  Van  Allen  wants 
errands  done,  of  course,  she  sends  Julie.  And,  of 
course,  said  Julie  is  disguised.  I  dope  out  all  this 
has  to  be  so.  For  Miss  Van  Allen  has  mailed  letters 
and — oh,  well,  of  course  she  could  mail  letters  in 
lots  of  ways,  but  sumpum  tells  me,  that  she  depends 
on  Miss  Julie  as  an  errand  girl.  So,  I  want  to  find 
out  the  look  of  the  Julie  person,  and  see  if  I  can't 
track  her  down,  and  so  get  at  Miss  Van  Allen. 
Vicky  Van,  I  believe  her  friends  call  her." 

"  They  do,"  said  I,  looking  sternly  at  the  boy, 
"  and  I'll  say  right  here,  that  I'm  one  of  her  friends, 
and  I  won't  stand  for  any  impertinence  or  any  re 
marks  of  any  sort  about  that  lady.  If  she  is  sus 
pected  of  this  crime,  let  the  law  take  its  course,  but 
until  there  is  some  direct  evidence,  don't  you  dare  to 
connect  her  name  with  it," 


216  VICKY  VAN 

"  I'm  only  obeying  Mr.  Stone's  orders.  And, 
take  it  from  one,  Mr.  Calhoun,  I  ain't  so  fresh  as  to 
make  remarks  about  a  lady.  I'm  a  prevaricator  of 
the  truth,  but  only  when  it's  abserlutely  necessary. 
And  on  the  other  hand,  I'm  a  born  protector  of 
women.  Why,  I'd  be  only  too  tickled  to  find  a 
gentleman  suspect.  Or,  at  least,  to  clear  Miss  Van 
Allen  from  all  s'picion." 

"  Why  do  you  feel  such  a  kindly  interest  in  the 
lady?" 

"  This  house,  for  one  reason.  You  see,  I've  been 
all  over  it,  at  Mr.  Stone's  orders,  and  I  ree'lize  what 
a  nice  lady  she  is.  I  don't  have  to  see  her,  to  under 
stand  her  tastes  and  her  'complishments.  Why,  jest 
the  books  on  her  centre  tables  and  the  records  for  her 
phonograph  spell  her  out  for  me,  in  words  of  one 
syllable.  And,  though  I'm  hunting  for  her,  it  isn't 
with  a  solid  hunch  that's  she's  the  knife-sticker.  Not 
by  no  means.  But  find  her  I've  gotto !  Because  F. 
Stone  says  for  me  to." 

I  looked  at  the  boy  more  curiously.  He  was  a 
strange  admixture  of  street  boy  and  sleuth.  His 
quick,  darting  eyes  were  never  still,  but  warily  alert 
to  catch  the  meaning  of  any  sound  or  motion  on  my 
part.  I  felt  as  if  he  read  me  through,  and  would 
not  have  been  surprised  to  have  him  tell  me  he  knew 
of  my  recent  communications  with  Vicky.  But  I 


FIBSY  217 

only  said,  "  You  are,  then,  Mr.  Stone's  right-hand 
man?" 

"  I  put  it  that  way,  yes.  But  really,  I'm  his  ap 
prentice,  and  I'm  learning  his  trade.  I  study  his 
methods,  and  I  add  some  gumption  of  my  own,  and 
if  I  can  help  him,  I'm  glad  and  happy.  And  any 
way,  I'm  learning." 

"  And  this  talk  about  your  lying?  Is  that 
straight  goods  ?  " 

"  If  it  is,  how  can  you  believe  what  I  tell  you?  " 
he  asked,  wrhimsically.  "  But,  I  used  to  be  a  fierce 
liar.  Then,  gettin'  in  with  F.  Stone,  made  me  see 
it's  wrong  to  lie — usuerly,  that  is.  So  I  don't,  now 
— leastways,  not  much.  Only  when  it's  jest  the  only 
thing  to  do  to  save  game." 

"  How  does  Mr.  Stone  know  when  you're  telling 
the  truth,  then?" 

"  Good  land,  I  don't  lie  to  him !  I  wouldn't, 
and  if  I  did,  it  wouldn't  be  any  use.  He'd  see  through 
me,  quicker'n  scat!  But,  honest,  I  wouldn't.  You 
see,  he's  my  idol,  yes  sir,  my  idol,  that's  what  that 
man  is!  Well,  Mr.  Calhoun,  as  you've  told  me  all 
you  can  pry  loose  from  your  stock  of  infermation, 
you  an'  me  may  as  well  make  our  adooses." 

"  How  do  you  know  I  haven't  revealed  all  I 
know  of  the  case?  " 

"  Oh,  I  read  from  your  mobile  counternance  that 


218  VICKY  VAN 

you're  keepin'  sumpum  back,  but  it  don't  matter. 
F.  Stone'll  nail  it,  when  he  gets  good  an'  ready.  What 
I  wanted  from  you  was  mostly  the  speakin'  likeness 
of  the  Julie  dame.  An'  I  guess  I  got  it.  Oh,  say, 
one  other  thing.  Who  among  Miss  Van  Allen's 
friends  is  an  artist?  " 

"  Miss  Gale  is  one.    Miss  Ariadne  Gale." 

"  Thank  you,  sir.  And  will  you  gimme  her 
address  ?  " 

I  did  so,  and  then  I  went  away,  thinking 
Fleming  Stone  a  queer  sort  of  detective  to  have  for 
assistant  such  an  illiterate,  uncultured  boy  as  Fibsy. 
The  name  was  enough  to  condemn  him !  But  as  I 
thought  the  little  chap  over,  I  realized  that  his  talk 
had  been  clear-headed  and  to  the  point,  besides  show 
ing  sagacity  and  perspicacity. 

It  was  growing  late,  but  after  this  interview  I 
felt  I  must  see  Ruth  for  a  few  minutes,  so  called  at 
the  Schuyler  house. 

She  greeted  me  cordially  and  seemed  glad  to  see 
me.  Winnie  was  still  acting  as  secretary  for  her, 
but  the  rush  of  notes  of  condolence  was  over,  and 
as  Ruth  was  not,  of  course,  giving  or  accepting 
social  invitations,  there  was  not  so  much  work  for 
Win  as  at  first.  But  the  two  had  become  fast  friends, 
and  Winnie  told  me  how  they  sat  together  chatting 
often  for  pleasant  half  hours  at  a  time. 


FIBSY  219 

I  told  Ruth  about  the  strange  boy  at  Vicky  Van's 
house. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  I've  heard  about  him.  Mr. 
Stone  picked  him  up  somewhere  and  he  uses  him  as 
a  sort  of  outside  scout.  He  has  all  confidence  in 
him,  though  I  believe  the  little  chap  rejoices  in  the 
name  of  Fibber." 

"  Fibsy,"  I  corrected.  "  He  is  certainly  a  bright 
youth.  And  he  plans  to  hunt  down  Miss  Van  Allen 
by  means  of  her  maid,  Julie." 

"  Are  they  together  ?  " 

"  We  only  suppose  so.  It  seems  probable,  that 
Miss  Van  Allen  would  want  the  help,  if  not  the 
protection  of  her  servant.  Julie  is  a  most  capable 
woman,  and  devoted  to  her  mistress." 

"  I've  heard  so.  I  have  a  kind,  thoughtful 
woman,  too,  and  I  should  miss  her  terribly  were  I 
without  her." 

"  Oh,  but  your  Tibbetts  is  a  servant,  and  noth 
ing  more.  This  Julie  was  a  real  friend  to  Miss  Van 
Allen,  and  looked  after  her  in  every  way.  House 
keeper,  maid,  nurse,  and  general  bodyguard." 

"  Yes,  Miss  Van  Allen  must  have  needed  such  a 
person,  since,  as  I  am  told,  she  lived  alone.  My 
sisters-in-law  are  quite  in  love  with  the  Van  Allen 
house.  Both  they  and  Winnie  have  been  singing 


220  VICKY  VAN 

its  praises  this  morning.  It  seems  your  Vicky  Van 
is  a  lady  of  most  refined  tastes." 

"  She  certainly  is.  I  can't  help  thinking  if  you 
and  she  had  known  each  other,  in  favorable  cir 
cumstances,  you  would  have  been  friends." 

"  It  may  be.  I  have  never  felt  sure  that  she  is 
the  guilty  one,  but  I  have  changed  my  mind  about 
not  wanting  her  to  be  found.  I  do  want  that  she 
should  be.  Mr.  Schuyler's  sisters  have  shown  me 
that  to  hesitate  at  or  neglect  any  means  of  hunting 
her  out  would  be  wrong.  And  so,  I  am  glad  we 
have  Mr.  Stone  and  I  hope  he  will  succeed  in  his 
search." 

"  What  changed  your  mind,  especially  ?  " 

"  I  realized  that  it  would  be  disloyalty  to  my 
husband's  memory  to  let  his  possible  slayer  go  free. 
The  girl  must  be  found,  and  then  if  she  can  be  freed 
of  suspicion,  very  well,  but  the  case  must  be  in 
vestigated  fully." 

"  I  dare  say  you  are  right.  Mr.  Schuyler  was  a 
man  of  importance  and  influence,  and  aside  from 
that,  every  deed  of  blood  calls  for  revenge.  I  honor 
you  for  deciding  as  you  have." 

"  It  is  justice  that  moves  me,  more  than  my 
personal  inclination,"  Ruth  went  on.  "  I  will  not 
deny,  Mr.  Calhoun,  that  in  some  ways,  my  hus 
band's  death  has  freed  me  from  certain  restrictions 


FIBSY  221 

that  hampered  and  galled  me.  I  shouldn't  mention 
this  to  you,  but  I  know  the  sisters  have  told  you  that 
I  have,  in  many  ways,  gone  counter  to  Mr.  Schuy- 
ler's  wishes,  since  I  have  been  my  own  mistress.  It 
is  true.  He  and  I  disagreed  greatly  on  matters  of  the 
household  and  matters  of  my  personal  comfort  and 
convenience.  Now  that  I  can  do  so,  I  am  arranging 
my  life  differently.  It  is  natural  that  I  should  do 
this,  but  the  Schuyler  ladies  think  that  I  have  begun 
indecently  soon.  I  say  this,  not  by  way  of  apology, 
but  because  I  want  you  to  understand." 

Ruth  looked  very  sweet  and  wistful,  as  she 
seemed  to  make  a  bid  for  my  sympathy.  I  was  im 
pressed  anew  by  the  soft  pallor  of  her  face  and  the 
sweet  purity  of  her  gray  eyes.  I  contrasted  her  with 
Vicky  Van.  One,  the  embodiment  of  life  and 
gayety,  the  other  a  gentle,  dovelike  personality, 
which,  however,  hinted  sometimes  at  hidden  fires. 
I  believed  that  Ruth  Schuyler  had  been  so  repressed, 
so  dominated  by  her  brute  of  a  husband,  that  her 
nature  had  never  expanded  to  its  own  possibilities. 

And,  like  a  blinding  flash  of  lightning,  the  knowl 
edge  came  to  me  that  I  loved  her!  It  was  no  un 
certain  conviction.  The  fact  sprang  full-armed,  to 
my  brain,  and  my  heart  swelled  with  the  bliss  of  it. 

I  scarcely  dared  look  at  her.  I  couldn't  tell  her — 
yet.  I  had  no  reason  to  think  she  cared  for  me, 


222  VICKY  VAN 

other  than  as  the  merest  acquaintance,  yet,  then  and 
there,  I  vowed  to  myself  that  she  should  care. 

I  thought  of  Vicky  Van — poor  little  Vicky.  She 
had  interested  me — did  interest  me,  but  in  only  a 
friendly  way.  Indeed,  my  interest  in  her  was 
prompted  by  sympathy  for  her  luckless  position  and 
the  trust  she  had  reposed  in  me,  I  would  hold  her 
trust  sacred.  I  would  never  play  false  to  Vicky 
Van.  But  henceforth  and  forever  my  heart  and  soul 
belonged  to  my  liege  lady,  my  angel- faced  Ruth. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Mr.  Calhotm?"  I  heard 
her  saying,  and  I  looked  up  to  see  her  smiling  almost 
gayly  at  me.  "  Your  thoughts  seem  to  be  a  thou 
sand  miles  away!" 

'"  Oh,  not  so  far  as  that,"  I  protested.  Somehow, 
I  felt  buoyantly  happy.  I  had  no  wish  to  tell  her  of 
my  love,  at  present  I  was  quite  content  to  worship 
her  in  secret,  and  I  exulted  in  a  sort  of  clairvoyant 
knowledge  that  I  should  yet  win  her.  I  smiled  into 
her  dear  eyes,  as  I  continued :  "  They  were  really 
round  the  corner  in  Vicky  Van's  house." 

To  my  delight  she  pouted  a  little.  "  Let's  talk 
of  something  else,"  she  said.  "  I've  no  doubt  Miss 
Van  Allen  is  charming,  and  her  home  a  perfect  gem, 
but  I  own  up  I'm  not  anxious  to  discuss  her  all  the 
time  and  with  every  one." 

"  You  shall  be  exempt   from  it  with  me,"   I 


FIBSY  223 

promised.  "  Henceforth  her  name  is  taboo  between 
us,  and  you  shall  choose  our  subjects  yourself." 

"  Then  let's  talk  about  me.  Now,  you  know, 
Mr.  Calhoun,  I  never  see  Mr.  Bradbury,  so  you 
must  be  my  legal  adviser  in  all  my  quandaries. 
First,  and  this  is  a  serious  matter,  I  don't  want  to 
continue  to  live  with  the  Schuyler  ladies.  We  are 
diametrically  opposed  on  all  matters  of  opinion,  and 
disagree  on  many  matters  of  fact."  Ruth  smiled, 
and  I  marveled  afresh  at  the  way  her  face  lighted 
up  when  she  indulged  in  that  little  smile  of  hers. 
"  Nor,"  she  went  on,  "  do  they  want  to  live  with 
me.  So,  it  ought  to  be  an  easy  matter  to  please  us 
all.  As  to  the  house  and  furnishings,  they  are  all 
mine,  but  if  the  sisters  prefer  to  live  here,  and  let 
me  go  elsewhere,  I  am  willing  to  give  them  the  house 
and  its  contents." 

"  I  know  you  don't  care  for  this  type  of  resi 
dence,"  I  said,  "  indeed,  Miss  Schuyler  said  yester 
day,  as  we  looked  over  Vicky  Van's  house,  that  it 
was  just  the  sort  of  thing  you  liked." 

"Oh,  I  can't  think  I  would  like  her  house!  I 
supposed  it  was  a  plain  little  affair.  Harmonious 
and  pretty,  Winnie  says,  but  she  didn't  give  me  the 
impression  it  was  elaborate." 

"  No,  it  isn't.     And  it  wouldn't  be  as  grand  as 


224  VICKY  VAN 

your  home  ought  to  be.  But  mention  of  the  girl  is 
not  allowed,  I  believe " 

She  smiled  again,  and  resumed :  "  Well,  I  want 
you  to  sound  the  Schuyler  sisters,  and  find  out  their 
wishes.  When  I  speak  to  them,  they  only  say  for 
me  to  wait  until  after  the  mystery  is  solved  and  all 
this  horrid  publicity  and  notoriety  at  an  end.  But  I 
want  to  go  away  from  them  now.  I  want  Mr.  Stone 
to  do  his  work,  and  I  hope  he  will  find  that  girl  and 
all  that,  but  I  can't  stand  it  to  live  in  this  atmos 
phere  of  detectives  and  reporters  and  policemen  any 
longer  than  I  must.  Would  it  do  for  me  to  go  to 
some  quiet  hotel  for  a  while  ?  I  could  take  Tibbetts, 
and  just  be  quietly  by  myself,  while  the  Schuylers 
continue  to  live  in  this  house." 

I  thought  it  over.  I  understood  perfectly  how 
she  hated  to  be  questioned  continually  as  to  her  life 
with  her  late  husband,  for  I  was  beginning  to  real 
ize  that  that  life  had  been  a  continuous  tragedy. 
Nothing  much  definite,  but  many  sidelights  and 
stray  hints  had  shown  me  how  he  had  treated  her, 
and  how  patiently  she  had  iborne  it.  And,  now  he 
was  gone,  and  I,  for  one,  didn't  blame  her  that  she 
wanted  to  get  away  from  the  scenes  of  her  slavery 
to  him.  For  it  had  been  that.  He  had  enforced 
his  ideas  and  opinions  upon  her,  until  she  had  been 


FIBSY  225 

allowed  to  do  nothing  and  to  have  nothing  as  she 
wished. 

And  now,  she  desired  only  peace  and  quietness 
somewhere,  anywhere,  away  from  the  two  who  rep 
resented  Randolph  Schuyler's  tyranny  and  carping 
criticism  without  his  right  to  obtrude  them  on  her. 

"  I  will  speak  to  them,"  I  said,  "  and  I'm  sure 
we  can  arrange  some  mode  o>f  life  for  you  which 
will  give  you  rest  and  freedom  of  judgment." 

"  Oh,  if  you  only  can!  "  she  murmured,  as  she 
held  out  a  friendly  hand. 


15 


CHAPTER  XVI 

A   FUTILE    CHASE 

IT  was  Sunday  afternoon,  and  we  were  in  con 
clave  in  the  Schuyler  library.  Fleming  Stone  was 
summing  up  his  results  of  the  past  few  days  and, 
though  it  was  evident  he  had  done  all  that  mortal 
man  could  do,  yet  he  had  no  hint  or  clue  as  to  where 
Vicky  Van  might  be. 

And,  he  held,  that  nothing  else  was  of  conse 
quence  compared  to  this  knowledge.  She  must  be 
found,  and  whether  that  could  be  done  quickly,  by 
search  or  by  chance,  or  whether  it  would  take  a 
long  time  of  waiting,  he  could  not  say.  He  felt 
sure,  that  she  must  disclose  herself,  sooner  or  later, 
but  if  not,  and  if  their  search  continued  unavailing, 
then  he  held  out  no  hope  for  success. 

"  It's  a  unique  case,"  he  said,  "  in  my  experience. 
All  depends  on  finding  that  woman.  If  she  is  in 
nocent,  herself,  she  knows  who  did  it.  And,  if  she 
is  the  guilty  one,  she  is  clever  enough  to  remain 
hidden.  It  may  be  she  is  miles  away,  out  of  the 
country,  perhaps.  She  has  had  ample  time  to  make 
arrangements  to  go  abroad,  or  to  any  distant  place. 
Her  guilt  seems  to  me  probable,  because  she  has 

226 


A  FUTILE  CHASE  227 

literally  abandoned  her  house  and  her  belongings. 
An  innocent  woman  would  scarcely  leave  all  those 
modern  and  valuable  furnishings  unless  for  some 
very  strong  reason.  But  as  to  finding  her — a  needle 
in  a  haystack  presents  an  easy  problem  by  contrast !  " 

"  Doubtless  she  is  hiding  in  the  house  of  some 
friend,"  suggested  Ruth,  thoughtfully.  "  It  seems 
to  me  she  must  have  been  taken  in  and  cared  for 
by  some  one  who  loved  her,  that  night  she 
disappeared." 

"  I  think  so,  too,"  agreed  Stone.  "  But  I've 
been  to  see  all  her  friends  that  I  can  find  out  about. 
I've  called  on  a  score  of  them,  finding  their  ad 
dresses  in  her  address  book  that  Mr.  Lowney  gave 
me.  Of  course,  they  may  have  been  deceiving  me, 
but  I  feel  safe  in  asserting  that  she  is  not  under  the 
protection  of  any  one  I  interviewed.  She  returned 
to  her  house  last  Monday  night,  the  police  believe, 
for  the  purpose  of  getting  her  mail.  This  shows  a 
daring  almost  unbelievable!  That  mail  must  have 
been  of  desperate  importance  to  her.  She  has  not 
been  to  the  house  since,  they  feel  sure,  and  since  I 
have  been  on  the  case  she  could  not  have  entered, 
for  I  have  kept  it  under  strict  surveillance.  I  think 
she  will  never  return  to  it.  Presumably  she  got  the 
letters  she  was  so  anxious  for.  Her  mail,  that  has 
arrived  the  last  few  days,  I  have  not  opened,  but 


228  VICKY  VAN 

the  envelopes  show  mostly  tradesmen's  cards,  or  are 
indubitably  social  correspondence.  There  seem  to 
be  no  letters  from  lawyers  or  financial  firms.  How 
ever,  if  nothing  develops,  I  shall  open  the  letters. 
This  case,  being  unprecedented,  necessitates  unusual 
proceedings." 

"  I'm  disappointed  in  you,  Mr.  Stone,"  said 
Rhoda  Schuyler,  testily;  "  I  didn't  suppose  you  were 
superhuman,  but  I  did  think,  with  your  reputation 
and  all,  you  would  be  able  to  find  that  woman.  I've 
heard  say  that  nobody  could  absolutely  vanish  in 
New  York  City,  and  not  be  traced." 

"  You  don't  regret  my  so-far  failure  a  bit  more 
than  I  do,  Miss  Schuyler,  but  I  feel  no  shame  or 
embarrassment  over  it.  Nor  am  I  ready  to  admit 
myself  beaten.  I  have  a  theory,  or,  rather  a  con 
viction  that  there  is  one  and  only  one  explanation  of 
this  strange  affair.  I  am  not  quite  ready  to  ex 
pound  this,  but  in  a  day  or  two  I  shall  find  if  it  is 
the  true  solution,  and  if  so  I  shall  soon  find  Miss 
Van  Allen." 

"  I  knew  you  would,"  and  Sarah  Schuyler  nodded 
her  head,  in  satisfaction.  "  I  told  Rhoda  to  give 
you  more  time  and  you  would  not  disappoint  us. 
All  right,  Mr.  Stone,  use  all  the  time  you  need.  But 
no  Schuyler  must  remain  unavenged.  I  want  to  see 


A  FUTILE  CHASE  229 

that  woman  killed — yes,  killed,  for  her  murder  of 
my  brother." 

Sarah  Schuyler  looked  like  a  figure  of  Justice 
herself,  as,  with  flashing  eyes  she  declared  her 
wrath.  And  it  was  her  right.  Her  brother's  blood 
called  out  for  vengeance.  But  the  more  gentle- 
souled  Ruth  shuddered  and  shrank  from  this  stern 
arraignment. 

"  Oh,  Sarah,"  she  murmured,  "  not  killed !  Don't 
condemn  a  woman  to  that !  " 

"Why  not,  Ruth?  If  a  woman  can  kill,  a 
woman  should  be  killed.  But  she  won't  be,"  she 
added,  bitterly.  "  No  jury  ever  convicts  a  woman, 
no  matter  how  clearly  her  guilt  is  proven." 

Just  then  Fibsy  appeared.  He  was  a  strange 
little  figure,  and  showed  a  shy  awkwardness  at  the 
grandeur  of  his  surroundings.  He  bobbed  a  funny 
little  curtsy  to  Ruth,  whom  he  already  adored, 
and  with  an  embarrassed  nod,  included  the  rest  of 
us  in  a  general  greeting. 

Then  to  Fleming  Stone  he  said,  in  an  eager, 
triumphant  tone,  "  I  got  'em !  " 

"  Got  what?  "  asked  Ruth,  smiling  at  him. 

"  Got  pictures  of  Miss  Van  Allen,  and  Julie, 
too." 

"What!"  cried  Ruth,  interested  at  once;  "let 
rne  see  them." 


230  VICKY  VAN 

Fibsy  glanced  at  her  and  then  at  Stone,  and 
handed  a  parcel  to  the  latter. 

"  He's  my  boss,"  the  boy  said,  as  if  by  way  o* 
apology  for  slighting  her  request. 

Fleming  Stone  opened  the  parcel  and  showed  two 
sketches. 

"  Miss  Gale  made  them,"  he  explained.  "  I  sent 
Fibsy  over  there  to  induce  her  to  give  us  at  least  a 
hint  of  Miss  Van  Allen's  personal  appearance.  The 
boy  could  wheedle  it  from  her,  when  I  couldn't. 
See?" 

He  handed  the  pictures  to  Miss  Rhoda,  for  he, 
too,  respected  authority,  but  we  all  gathered  round 
to  look. 

They  were  the  merest  sketches.  A  wash  of 
water-color,  but  they  showed  merit.  As  the  only 
one  present  who  knew  Vicky  Van,  I  was  asked  of 
the  truth  of  their  portraiture. 

"  Fairly  good,"  I  said,  "  yes,  more  than  that. 
This  of  Vicky  shows  the  coloring  of  her  face  and 
hair  and  the  general  effect  of  her  costume,  more  than 
her  actual  physiognomy.  But  it  is  certainly  a  close 
enough  likeness  to  make  her  recognizable  if  you 
find  her." 

And  this  was  true.  Ariadne  had  caught  the 
sidelong  glance  of  Vicky  Van's  dark-lashed  eyes,  and 
the  curve  of  her  scarlet  lips.  The  coloring  was  per- 


A  FUTILE  CHASE  231 

feet,  just  Vicky's  vivid  tints,  and  the  dark  hair, 
looped  over  her  ears,  was  as  she  always  wore  it. 
Ariadne  had  drawn  her  in  the  gown  she  had  worn 
that  fatal  evening,  and  the  women  eagerly  scrutin 
ized  the  gorgeous  costume. 

"  No  wonder  those  long  strands  of  fringe  caught 
in  that  scraggly  mirror  frame !  "  exclaimed  Winnie, 
who  never  missed  a  point. 

"  Right,"  said  Stone.  "  If  she  whirled  around 
as  you  did,  Miss  Calhoun,  it's  a  wonder  she  didn't 
spoil  her  whole  gown." 

The  pose  and  the  figure  were  not  exactly  Vicky's. 
Ariadne  wasn't  much  on  catching  a  likeness  or  a 
physical  effect.  But  the  color  and  atmosphere  were 
fine,  and  I  told  this  to  Stone,  who  agreed  that  it  was 
a  decided  help  in  the  search. 

Julie's  portrait  was  the  same.  Not  a  real  like 
ness  of  the  woman,  but  an  impressionist  transcript 
of  her  salient  points.  The  gray  gown  and  white 
apron,  the  thick-rimmed  glasses,  the  parted  lips, 
showing  slightly  protruding  teeth,  the  plainly  parted 
brown  hair,  all  were  the  real  Julie ;  and  yet,  except 
for  these  accessories  I'm  not  sure  I  could  have  recog 
nized  the  subject  of  the  sketch.  However,  as  I  told 
Stone,  it  certainly  was  a  helpful  indication  of  the 
sort  of  woman  he  was  to  look  for,  and  even  in  dis^ 
guise,  the  physical  characteristics  must  show, 


232  VICKY  VAN 

The  detective  was  positive  that  wherever  Vicky 
Van  and  Julie  were,  or  whatever  they  were  doing, 
they  were  in  all  probability  disguised,  and  thor 
oughly  so,  or  they  must  have  been  discovered  ere 
this. 

To  my  amusement,  Fibsy  and  Ruth  were  holding 
a  tete-a-tete  conversation.  The  kind-hearted  woman 
had,  doubtless,  felt  sorry  for  the  boy's  shyness,  and 
had  drawn  him  into  chat  to  put  him  at  his  ease. 

She  had  succeeded,  too,  for  he  was  animated, 
and  had  lost  his  self-consciousness  under  the  charm 
of  her  smile. 

"  And  I'll  bet  your  birthday  comes  in  the 
spring,"  he  was  saying,  as  I  caught  the  tenor  of 
their  talk. 

"  It  does,"  said  Ruth,  looking  surprised.  "  How 
did  you  guess  ?  " 

"  'Cause  you're  just  like  a  little  spring  flower — 
a  white  crocus  or  a  bit  of  arbutus." 

And  then,  noting  my  attention,  the  boy  was 
covered  with  confusion  and  blushed  to  the  tips  of 
his  ears.  He  rose  from  where  he  sat,  and  shuffled 
awkwardly  around  the  great  room,  devoting  exag 
gerated  attention  to  some  books  in  the  glassed  cases, 
and  twirling  his  fingers  in  acute  embarrassment. 

"  You  scared  him  away,"  chided  Ruth,  under 


A  FUTILE  CHASE  233 

her  breath,  as  our  glances  met.  "  He  and  I  were 
getting  positively  chummy." 

"  Why  was  he  talking  of  your  birthday  ?  I 
asked. 

"  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure.  He  said  I  was  born 
in  the  spring,  because  I'm  like  a  flower!  Really, 
that  child  will  grow  up  a  poet,  if  he  doesn't  look 
out!" 

"  Your  are  like  a  flower,"  I  murmured  back. 
"  And  I'm  glad  your  birthday  is  in  spring.  I  mean 
to  celebrate  it!  " 

And  then  I  thought  of  poor  Vicky  Van's  birth 
day,  so  tragically  ended,  and  I  quickly  changed  the 
subject. 

Armed  with  the  pictures,  Fleming  Stone  and 
his  young  assistant  spent  the  next  day  on  a  still  hunt. 

And  in  the  evening  Stone  came  over  to  see  me. 

"  A  little  quiet  confab,"  he  said,  as  we  secluded 
ourselves  in  my  sitting-room  and  closed  the  door. 
"  I've  been  to  a  score  of  places,  and  invariably  they 
recognize  Miss  Van  Allen  and  her  maid,  but  all  say 
they've  not  seen  her  since  the  tragedy.  I  went  to 
shops,  offices,  the  bank  and  places  where  she  would 
be  likely  to  need  to  go.  Also,  her  friends'  houses. 
But  nothing  doing.  The  shops  have  heard  from 
her,  in  the  way  of  paid  bills,  checks  and  such  mat 
ters,  but  I  learned  absolutely  nothing  that  throws 


234  VICKY  VAN 

any  light  on  her  whereabouts.  Now,  Mr.  Calhoun. 
the  very  thoroughness  of  her  disappearance,  the 
very  inviolable  secrecy  of  her  hiding-place  proves  to 
me  that  she  isn't  hiding." 

"  Now,  Mr.  Stone,"  I  said,  smiling,  "  you  talk 
like  a  real  story-book  detective.  Cryptic  utterances 
of  that  sort  are  impressive  to  the  layman,  you  know." 

"  Pshaw !  "  and  he  looked  annoyed,  "  if  you 
knew  anything  about  detective  work,  you'd  know 
that  the  most  seemingly  impossible  conditions  are 
often  the  easiest  to  explain." 

"  Well,  then,  explain.    I'll  be  glad  to  hear." 

"  I  will.  And,  in  return,  Mr.  Calhoun,  I'm  going 
to  ask  you  if  you  don't  think,  that  all  things  consid 
ered,  you  ought  to  tell  me  what  you  are  keeping 
back?  You  won't  mind,  will  you,  if  I  say  that  I 
have  deduced,  from  evidence,"  he  smiled,  "  that  your 
interests  are  largely  coincident  with  those  of  Mrs. 
Schuyler?" 

"  You're  on,"  I  said,  shortly,  but  not  annoyed  at 
his  perspicacity. 

"  Well,  then,  I  assure  you  that  Mrs.  Schuyler  is 
most  desirous  of  locating  Miss  Van  Allen.  She  is 
not  so  revengeful  or  vituperative  as  the  sisters  of 
her  husband,  but  she  feels  it  is  due  to  her  husband's 
memory  to  find  his  slayer,  if  possible.  Now  sup 
pose  you  tell  me  what  you  know,  and  I  promise  to 


A  FUTILE  CHASE  235 

keep  it  an  inviolate  confidence  except  so  far  as  it 
actually  helps  the  progress  of  the  wheels  of  justice." 

"  I  do  want  to  do  what  is  best  for  Mrs.  Schuy- 
ler's  interests,"  I  said,  after  I  had  thought  a  moment. 
"  But,  I  must  confess,  I  have  a  certain  sympathy  and 
pity  for  Victoria  Van  Allen.  I  cannot  believe  her 
guilty " 

"  Then  tell  me  frankly  the  truth.  If  you  are 
right,  and  she  is  not  the  murderer,  the  truth  can't 
harm  her.  And  if  she  is  the  guilty  person,  you  are 
compounding  a  felony,  in  the  eyes  of  the  law,  to 
withhold  your  information." 

Stone  spoke  a  little  sternly,  and  I  realized  he  was 
right.  If  Vicky  were  untraceably  hidden,  all  I  could 
tell  wouldn't  hurt  her.  And,  too,  I  couldn't  see  that 
it  would,  anyway.  Moreover,  as  Stone  said,  I  was 
making  myself  amenable  to  the  law,  by  a  refusal  to 
tell  all  I  knew,  and  since  I  was  so  aware  of  my  own 
devotion  to  Ruth  Schuyler,  I  felt  I  had  no  right  to 
do  anything  that  she  would  disapprove.  And,  I 
knew  that  a  touch  of  feminine  pique  in  her  disposi 
tion  would  resent  any  consideration  of  Vicky  over 
her  own  claims! 

Therefore,  I  told  Fleming  Stone  all  I  knew  of 
Victoria  Van  Allen,  both  before,  during  and  after 
the  occasion  of  her  birthday  party. 

He  listened,  with  his  deep  eyes  fixed  on  my  face. 


236  VICKY  VAN 

"  Most  extraordinary!  "  he  said,  at  last,  after  I 
had  finished.  "  I  never  heard  of  such  daring!  To 
enter  her  own  house  when  it  was  watched  by  the 
police " 

"  Only  the  post  patrol,  then,"  I  reminded  him. 
"  She  could  easily  manage  between  his  rounds." 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know.  But  you've  put  the  whole 
thing  in  different  focus.  Tell  me  more." 

There  was  no  more  to  tell,  but  I  went  over  my 
story  again,  amplifying  and  remembering  further 
details,  until  we  had  spent  the  whole  evening.  He 
egged  me  on  by  questions  and  his  burning,  eager 
eyes  seemed  to  drink  in  my  words  as  if  they  were 
so  much  priceless  wisdom. 

And  I  told  him,  too,  that  I  had  promised  to  put 
Vicky's  address  book  in  the  Chinese  jar  for  her  that 
very  evening. 

"  We'll  do  it !  "  he  exclaimed,  promptly.  "  She 
meant  to  meet  you  there,  I'm  sure,  but  I'm  also  sure 
she  changed  her  mind  about  that,  when  she  learned 
of  my  advent.  However,  we'll  keep  your  promise." 

Acting  at  his  instructions,  I  went  with  him  over 
to  Vicky  Van's.  It  was  about  midnight,  and  as  he 
had  the  address  book  with  him,  he  kept  possession 
of  it 

We  went  in  the  house,  and  in  the  dark,  felt  our 
way  up  to  the  music  room.  Stone  put  the  book  in 


A  FUTILE  CHASE  237 

the  jar,  and  motioned  for  me  to  hide  behind  a  sofa. 
He  himself  took  up  his  vigil  behind  a  window-cur 
tain,  of  heavy  brocade. 

He  had  planned  all  this,  before  we  left  my  house, 
and  no  word  was  spoken  as  we  took  our  places.  His 
hope  was  that  Vicky  would  come  into  the  house  late 
and  go  straight  for  her  book  and  quickly  out  again. 
He  had  directed  me  to  wait  until  she  had  really  ab 
stracted  the  book  from  the  jar  and  then,  as  she  was 
leaving  the  room,  spring  after  her  and  stop  her. 

I  obeyed  orders  implicitly,  and,  as  Stone  had 
warned  rne,  we  had  a  bit  of  a  wait.  I  grew  cramped 
and  tired,  and  at  last  I  gave  up  all  hope  of  Vicky's 
appearance. 

And  then,  she  came ! 

Silently,  absolutely  without  sound,  she  glided  in 
from  the  hall.  My  eyes,  now  accustomed  to  the  semi- 
gloom  of  the  room,  could  discern  her  figure  as  it  ap 
proached  the  great  vase.  Softly,  she  raised  the 
cover,  she  abstracted  the  book,  and  with  noiseless 
touch  was  replacing  the  cover,  when  she  threw  back 
her  head,  as  if  she  sensed  our  presence.  I  had  made 
no  move,  nor  had  I  heard  a  breath  of  sound  from 
Stone,  but  Vicky  knew  some  one  was  present.  I 
knew  that  by  her  startled  movement.  She  gave  a 
stifled  scream,  and  pushing  the  great  jar  off  on  the 


238  VICKY  VAN 

floor,  where  it  crashed  to  pieces,  she  rushed  out  of 
the  room  and  down  stairs. 

"After  her,  Calhoun!  Fly!"  shouted  Stone,  and 
as  he  flung  back  the  heavy  curtains  the  street  lights 
illuminated  the  scene.  But  as  we  avoided  the  broken 
fragments  we  bumped  together  and  lost  a  few 
seconds  in  our  recovery  from  the  impact. 

This  gave  Vicky  a  start,  and  we  heard  the  street 
door  slam  as  we  raced  down  the  stairs.  Here,  too, 
we  lost  a  second  or  two,  for  I  stepped  back  to  give 
Stone  space  just  as  he  did  the  same  for  me,  and  when 
we  had  reached  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  leaped  through 
the  hall,  wrenched  open  the  door  and  dashed  down 
the  steps  to  the  pavement,  we  saw  the  flying  figure 
of  Vicky  Van  round  the  Fifth  Avenue  corner,  and 
turn  South. 

After  her  we  ran,  as  fast  as  mortal  man  can  run, 
I  verily  believe,  and  when  we  reached  the  Avenue 
there  was  no  one  in  sight ! 

Stone  stood  stock-still,  looking  down  the  street. 

The  Avenue  was  lighted,  as  usual,  and  we  could 
see  a  block  and  more  in  both  directions,  but  no  sign 
of  Vicky.  Nor  was  there  a  pedestrian  abroad,  or  a 
motor.  The  Avenue  was  absolutely  uninhabited,  as 
far  as  our  eyes  could  reach. 
"  Where'd  she  go?"  I  panted. 

"  Into  some  house,  or,  maybe,  hiding  in  an  area. 


A  FUTILE  CHASE  239 

We  must  search  them  all,  but  very  warily.  She's  a 
witch,  a  wonder-woman,  but  all  the  same,  the  earth 
didn't  open  and  swallow  her !" 

We  searched  every  area  way  on  the  block.  One 
of  us  would  go  in  and  explore  while  the  other  stood 
guard.  The  third  house  was  the  Schuyler  residence, 
but  Stone  also  searched  thoroughly  in  its  basement 
entrance. 

"  All  dark  and  locked  up,"  he  reported,  as  he 
came  out  from  there.  "  And,  of  course,  she  wouldn't 
seek  sanctuary  there !  But  I've  wondered  if  she  isn't 
concealed  in  one  of  these  nearby  houses,  as  she  has 
such  ready  access  to  her  own  home." 

But  it  was  impossible.  Every  basement  entrance 
was  locked  and  bolted  for  the  night  and  all  the  win 
dows  were  dark. 

"  She's  given  us  the  slip,"  said  Stone,  in  deep 
chagrin.  "  But  perhaps  she  crossed  the  street. 
Maybe  she  didn't  run  down  this  side  very  far.  Let's 
go  over." 

We  crossed  and  looked  over  the  stone  wall  of  the 
park.  Surely  Vicky  Van  had  not  had  time  to  scram 
ble  over  that  wall  before  we  reached  the  corner.  It 
had  been  not  more  than  a  few  seconds  after  we  saw 
her  flying  form  turn  down  the  Avenue,  and  she 
couldn't  have  crossed  the  street  and  scaled  the  wall 
in  that  time ! 


240  VICKY  VAN 

Where  was  she?    What  had  become  of  her? 

"  Ring  up  the  houses  and  inquire,"  I  suggested. 
"  You're  justified  in  doing  that." 

"  No  use,"  he  responded.  "  If  she  was  expected 
they  won't  give  her  away,  and  if  she  isn't  there, 
they'd  be  pretty  angry  at  our  intrusion.  I'll  admit, 
Calhoun,  I've  never  been  so  mystified  in  my  life!" 

"  Nor  I !"  I  emphatically  agreed. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE   GOLD-FRINGED   GOWN 

AFTER  that  night  Fleming  Stone  became  more 
desperately  in  earnest  in  his  search  for  Vicky.  It 
seemed  as  if  the  sight  of  her,  the  realization  that 
she  was  a  real  woman  and  not  a  myth,  had  whetted 
his  eagerness  to  discover  her  hiding'place  and  bring 
her  to  book. 

He  established  himself  in  her  house,  and  both  he 
and  Fibsy  practically  lived  there,  going  out  for  their 
meals  or  picnicking  in  the  basement  room.  This 
room  became  his  headquarters,  and  a  plain  clothes 
man  was  on  duty  whenever  Stone  and  Fibsy  were 
both  absent. 

"  Though  I  don't  think  she'll  ever  come  back 
again,"  Stone  declared,  gloomily.  "  She  was  des 
perately  anxious  for  that  address  book,  and  so  she 
got  it,  through  my  stupidity.  I  might  have  known 
she'd  make  a  dash  for  the  street  door.  I  should 
have  had  that  exit  guarded.  But  I've  seen  her,  and 
I'll  get  her  yet!  At  any  rate  she  hasn't  left  the 
country,  or  hadn't  last  night,  whatever  she  may  do 
to-day." 

It  was  the  day  after  Vicky  had  given  us  the  slip. 

16  241 


242  VICKY  VAN 

It  was  midafternoon,  and  I  had  gone  to  see  Stone, 
on  my  return  from  my  office.  I  was  sadly  neglecting 
my  own  business  nowadays,  but  Mr.  Bradbury 
looked  after  it,  and  he  sanctioned  my  devotion  to 
the  Schuyler  cause. 

"  Randolph  Schuyler  was  an  important  citizen," 
he  said,  "  and  his  murderer  must  be  apprehended  if 
possible.  Do  all  you  can,  Calhoun,  for  humanity's 
sake  and  the  law's.  Take  all  the  time  you  want  to, 
I'll  see  to  your  important  business. 

So,  though  I  went  downtown  every  morning,  I 
came  back  at  noon  or  soon  after  and  plunged  afresh 
into  the  work  of  finding  Vicky  Van. 

There  was  little  I  could  do,  but  Stone  consulted 
and  questioned  me  continually  as  to  Vicky's  habits  or 
pursuits,  and  I  told  him  frankly  all  I  knew. 

Also  I  managed  to  make  business  matters  loom 
up  so  importantly  as  to  necessitate  frequent  calls  on 
Ruth  Schuyler,  and  I  spent  most  of  my  afternoon 
hours  in  the  Fifth  Avenue  house. 

And  Ruth  was  most  kind  to  me.  I  couldn't  say 
she  showed  affection  or  even  especial  interest,  but 
she  turned  to  me  as  a  confidant  and  we  had  many 
long,  pleasant  conversations  when  the  subject  of  the 
mystery  was  not  touched  upon. 

Though  she  never  said  a  word  against  Randolph 
Schuyler,  I  couldn't  help  learning  that,  aside  from 


THE  GOLD-FRINGED  GOWN  £43 

the  horror  of  it,  his  death  was  to  her  a  blessed  re 
lief.  He  had  not  been  a  good  man,  nor  had  he  been 
a  good  husband.  On  the  contrary,  he  had  blighted 
Ruth's  whole  life  by  thwarting  her  every  innocent 
desire  for  gayety  or  pleasure. 

For  instance,  she  spoke  of  her  great  enjoyment 
of  light  opera  or  farce  comedy,  but  as  Mr.  Schuyler 
didn't  care  for  such  entertainment  he  had  never  al 
lowed  her  to  go.  He  had  a  box  at  the  Grand  Opera, 
and  Ruth  loved  to  go,  but  she  liked  lighter  music 
also. 

This  was  not  told  complainingly,  but  transpired 
in  the  course  of  a  conversation  at  which  Fibsy 
chanced  to  be  present. 

"  Gee !"  he  said,  looking  at  Ruth  commiserat- 
ingly,  "  ain't  you  never  heard  '  The  Jitney  Girl ' 
or  '  The  Prince  of  Peoria  '  ?" 

Ruth  shook  her  head,  smiling  at  the  boy's  amaze 
ment.  There  was  a  subtle  sympathy  between  these 
two  that  surprised  me,  for  Ruth  Schuyler  was  fas 
tidious  in  her  choice  of  friends.  But  he  amused  her, 
and  he  was  never  really  impertinent — merely  naive 
and  unconventional. 

Well,  on  the  day  I  speak  of,  Stone  and  I  sat  in 
the  basement  room  awaiting  Fibsy's  return.  He  was 
out  after  certain  information  and  we  hoped  much 
from  it. 


244  VICKY  VAN 

"  I  gotta  bunch  o'  dope,"  he  announced,  as  he  sud 
denly  appeared  before  us.  "  Dunno  's  it'll  pan  out 
much,  but  listen  'n'  I'll  spill  a  earful." 

I  had  learned  that  Fibsy,  or  Terence,  as  we 
ought  to  call  him,  was  trying  to  discard  his  street 
slang,  and  was  succeeding  fairly  well,  save  in  mo 
ments  of  great  excitement  or  importance.  And  so,  I 
hoped  from  his  slangy  beginning,  that  he  had  found 
some  fresh  data. 

"  I  chased  up  that  chore  boy  first,"  he  related, 
"  an'  he  didn't  know  anything  at  all.  Said  Miss  Van 
Allen  's  a  lovely  lady,  but  he  'most  never  saw  her, 
the  Julie  dame  did  all  the  orderin'  an'  payin'  s'far's 
he  was  concerned.  Good  pay,  but  irregular  work. 
She'd  be  here  a  day  or  two,  an'  then  like's  not  go 
'way  for  a  week.  Well,  we  knew  that  before. 
Then,  next,  I  tracked  to  his  lair  the  furnace  man. 
Same  story.  Here  to-day  an'  gone  to-morrer,  as 
the  song  says.  'Course,  he  ain't  only  a  stoker,  he's 
really  an  odd  job  man — ashes,  sidewalks,  an'  such. 
Well,  he  didn't  help  none — any,  I  mean.  But,"  and 
the  shock  of  red  hair  seemed  to  bristle  with  triumph, 
"  I  Joined  one  thing !  That  Julie  has  been  to  the 
sewing  woman  and  the  laundress  lady  and  shut  'em 
up !  Yes,  sir!  that's  what  she's  done !" 

"  Tell  it  all,"  said  Stone,  briefly. 

"  Well,  I  struck  the  seamstress  first.  She  wouldn't 


THE  GOLD-FRINGED  GOWN  245 

tell  a  thing,  and  I  said,  calmly,  '  I  know  Julie  paid 
you  to  keep  your  mouth  shut,  but  if  you  don't  tell, 
the  law'll  make  you!'  That  scared  her.  and  she 
owned  up  that  Julie  was  to  see  her  'bout  a  week  ago 
and  give  her  fifty  dollars  not  to  tell  anything  at  all 
whatsomever  about  Miss  Van  Allen!  Some  girl, 
that  Vicky  Van!" 

"  Julie  went  there  herself  !  "  I  cried. 

"  Yep.  The  real  Julie,  gold  teeth  and  all.  But 
I  quizzed  the  needle  pusher  good  and  plenty,  and 
she  don't  know  much  of  evidential  value." 

It  was  always  funny  when  Fibsy  interlarded  his 
talk  with  legal  phrases,  but  he  was  unconscious  of 
any  incongruity  and  went  on : 

"  You  see,  as  I  dope  it  out,  she's  accustomed 
to  sit  in  Miss  Van  Allen's  boodore  a-sewin'  an'  might 
have  overheard  some  gossip  or  sumpum  like  that, 
an'  Miss  Van  Allen  was  afraid  she'd  scatter  it,  an' 
so  she  sent  Julie  to  shut  her  up.  I  don't  believe  the 
woman  knows  where  Miss  Van  is  now." 

"  I  must  see  her,"  said  Stone. 

"  Yes,  sir.  She  won't  get  away.  She's  a  regu 
lar  citizen,  an'  respectable  at  that.  Well,  then,  the 
laundress.  To  her  also  Julie  had  likewise  went.  An' 
to  her  also  Julie  had  passed  the  spondulicks.  Now, 
I  don't  understand  that  so  well,  for  laundresses  don't 
overhear  the  ladies  talking  but,  anyway,  Julie  told 


246  VICKY  VAN 

her  if  she  wouldn't  answer  a  question  to  anybody, 
she'd  give  her  half  a  century,  too.  And  did." 

"  Doubtless  the  laundress  knew  something  Miss 
Van  Allen  wants  kept  secret." 

"  Doubtless,  sir,"  said  Fibsy,  gravely. 

"  But  I  don't  believe,"  mused  Stone,  "  that  it 
would  help  us  any  to  learn  all  those  women  know. 
If  Miss  Van  Allen  thought  they  could  help  us  find 
her,  she  would  give  them  more  than  that  for  silence 
or  get  them  out  of  the  city  altogether." 

"  Where  is  Miss  Van  Allen,  Mr.  Stone?  " 

Fibsy  asked  the  question  casually,  as  one  ex 
pectant  of  an  answer. 

"  She's  in  the  city,  Fibs,  living  as  somebody  else." 

"  Yep,  that's  so.  Over  on  the  West  side,  say, 
among  the  artist  lady's  studio  gang?" 

"  Maybe  so.  But  she  has  full  freedom  of  ac 
tion  and  goes  about  as  she  likes.  Julie  also.  They 
come  here  whenever  they  choose,  though  I  don't 
think  they'll  come  while  we're  here.  It's  a  queer 
state  of  things,  Calhoun.  What  do  you  make  of  it?" 

"  I  don't  believe  Vicky  is  disguised.  Her  per 
sonality  is  too  pronounced  and  so  is  Julie's.  I  think 
some  friend  is  caring  for  them.  Not  Ariadne  Gale, 
of  that  I'm  sure.  But  it  may  be  Mrs.  Reeves.  She 
is  very  fond  of  Vicky  and  is  clever  enough  to  hide 
the  girl  all  this  time." 


THE  GOLD-FRINGED  GOWN  247 

"  The  police  have  searched  her  house " 

"  I  know,  but  Mrs.  Reeves  and  Vicky  could  con 
nive  a  plan  that  would  hoodwink  the  police,  I'm 
pretty  certain." 

"  I'll  look  into  that,"  and  Stone  made  a  note  of 
it.  "  About  that  carving  knife,  Fibsy.  Did  the 
caterers  take  it  away  by  mistake?" 

"No,  sir;  I  'vestergated  that,  an'  they  didn't." 

"  That  knife  is  an  important  thing,  to  my  mind," 
the  detective  went  on. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  eagerly  agreed  Fibsy.  "  It  may  yet 
cut  the  Gorgian  knot !  Why,  Mr.  Stone,  the  sewing 
lady  knew  that  knife.  She  was  here  to  lunching  a 
few  days  before  the  moider,  an'  she  says  she  always 
sat  at  the  table  in  the  dining  room  to  eat,  after  Miss 
Van  Allen  got  through.  An'  she  says  that  knife 
was  there,  'cos  they  had  steak,  an'  she  used  it  her 
self.  I  described  the  fork  puffeckly,  an'  she  recker- 
nized  it  at  onct" 

"You're  a  bright  boy!"  I  exclaimed  in  invol 
untary  tribute  to  this  clever  bit  of  work. 

"  I'm  'ssociated  with  Mr.  Stone,"  said  Fibsy, 
with  a  quiet  twinkle. 

"  It  was  clever,"  agreed  Stone.  "  I'm  sure,  my 
self,  that  the  absence  of  that  small  carving  knife 
means  something,  but  I  can't  fit  it  in  yet." 

We  went  up  to  the  dining-room  to  look  again  at 


248  VICKY  VAN 

the  carving  fork,  still  in  its  place  on  the  sideboard. 
I  was  always  thrilled  at  a  return  to  this  room — 
always  reminded  of  the  awful  tableau  I  had  seen 
there. 

The  long,  slender  fork  lay  in  its  place.  Though 
it  had  been  repeatedly  examined  and  puzzled  over, 
it  had  been  carefully  replaced. 

"  But  I  can't  see,"  I  offered,  "  why  a  carving- 
knife  should  figure  in  the  matter  at  all  when  the 
crime  was  committed  with  the  little  boning-knife." 

"  That's  why  the  missing  carving-knife  ought  to 
be  a  clue,"  said  Stone,  "  because  its  connection  with 
the  case  is  inexplicable.  Now,  where  is  that  knife? 
Fibsy,  where  is  it?" 

Fleming  Stone's  frequent  appeals  to  the  boy  were 
often  in  a  half -bantering  tone,  and  yet,  rather  often, 
Terence  returned  an  opinion  or  a  bit  of  conjecture 
that  turned  Stone's  cogitations  in  a  fresh  direction. 

'  You  see,  sir,"  he  said,  this  time,  "  that  knife 
is  in  this  house.  It's  gotter  be.  That  lady  left  the 
house  in  a  mighty  hurry  but  all  the  same  she  didn't 
go  out  a  brandishin'  of  a  carvin'-knife!  Nor  did 
she  take  it  along  an  drop  it  in  the  street  or  an  ash 
can  for  it'd  been  found.  So,  she  siccreted  it  sum 
mer,  an'  it's  still  in  the  house — unless — yes,  unless 
she  has  taken  it  away  since.  You  know,  Mr.  Stone, 


THE  GOLD-FRINGED  GOWN  249 

the  Van  Allen  has  been  in  this  house  more  times 
than  you'd  think  for.  Yes,  sir,  she  has." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?" 

"  Lots  o'  ways.  Frinst'  on  Sat'day,  I  noticed  a 
clean  squarish  place  in  the  dust  on  a  table  in  the 
lady's  bedroom,  an'  it's  where  a  book  was.  That 
book  disappeared  durin'  Friday  night.  I  don't  re 
member  seein'  the  book,  I  didn't  notice  it,  to  know 
what  book  it  was,  but  the  clean  place  in  the  dust 
couldn't  get  there  no  other  way.  Well,  all  is,  it 
shows  Miss  Vick  comes  an'  goes  pretty  much  as 
she  likes — or  did  till  you'n  me  camped  out  here." 

"  Then  you  think  she  left  the  knife  here  that 
night,  and  has  since  returned  and  taken  it  away?" 

"  I  donno,"  Fibsy  scowled  in  his  effort  to  deduce 
the  truth.  "Let's  look!" 

He  darted  from  the  room  and  up  the  stairs. 
Stone  rose  to  follow. 

"  That  boy  is  uncanny  at  times,"  he  said,  seri 
ously.  "I'm  only  too  glad  to  follow  his  intuitions, 
and  not  seldom;  he's  all  right." 

We  went  upstairs,  and  then  on  up  to  the  next 
floor.  Fibsy  was  in  Vicky  Van's  dressing'room, 
staring  about  him.  He  stood  in  the  middle  of  the 
floor,  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  wheeling  round  on 
one  heel. 


250  VICKY  VAN 

"  They  say  she  ran  upstairs  'fore  she  flew  the 
coop,"  he  murmured,  not  looking  at  us.  "  That  Miss 
Weldon  said  that.  Well,  if  she  did,  she  natchelly 
came  up  here  for  a  cloak  an'  bonnet  I'll  never  be 
lieve  that  level-headed  young  person  went  out  into 
the  cold  woild  in  her  glad  rags,  an'  no  coverin'. 
Well,  then,  say,  she  lef  that  knife  here,  locked  up 
good  an'  plenty.  Where — where,  I  say,  would  she 
siccrete  it?" 

He  glared  round  the  room,  as  if  trying  to  wrest 
the  secret  from  its  inanimate  contents. 

"  Mr.  Stone  says  that  walls  have  tongues.  I 
believe  it,  an'  I  know  these  walls  are  jest  yellin'  the 
truth  at  me,  an'  yet,  I'm  so  soul-deef  I  can't  make  out 
their  lingo!  Well,  let's  make  a  stab  at  it.  Mr. 
Stone,  I'll  lay  you  that  knife  is  in  some  drawer  or 
cubbid  in  this  here  very  room." 

"  Maybe,  Fibsy,"  said  Stone,  cheerfully.  "  Where 
shall  we  look  first?" 

"  All  over."  And  Fibsy  darted  to  a  wardrobe 
and  began  feeling  among  the  gowns  and  wraps 
hanging  there.  With  a  touch  as  light  as  a  pick 
pocket's  he  slid  his  lightning-like  fingers  through  the 
folds  of  silk  and  tulle,  and  turned  back  with  a  dis 
appointed  air. 


THE  GOLD-FRINGED  GOWN  251 

"Frisked  the  whole  pack;  nothin'  doin',"  he 
grumbled.  "  But  don't  give  up  the  ship." 

We  didn't.  Having  something  definite  to  do,  we 
did  it  thoroughly,  and  two  men  and  a  boy  fingered 
every  one  of  Vicky  Van's  available  belongings  in 
an  amazingly  short  space  of  time. 

"  Now  for  this  chest,"  said  Fibsy,  indicating  a 
large  low  box  on  rollers  that  he  pulled  out  from 
under  the  couch. 

It  was  locked,  but  Stone  picked  it  open,  and 
threw  back  the  cover.  At  the  bottom  of  it,  beneath 
several  other  gowns,  we  found  the  costume  Vicky 
had  worn  the  night  of  the  murder ! 

"  My  good  land !  "  ejaculated  Fibsy,  "  the  gold- 
fringed  rig !  Ain't  it  classy !  " 

Stone  lifted  out  the  dress,  heavy  with  its  weight 
of  gold  beads,  and  held  it  up  to  view.  On  the  flounces 
were  stains  of  blood !  And  from  the  wrinkled  folds 
fell,  with  a  clatter  to  the  floor,  the  missing  carving- 
knife! 

I  stooped  to  pick  up  the  knife. 

'  'Scuse  me,  Mr.  Calhoun,"  cried  Fibsy,  grasp 
ing  my  hand,  "  don't  touch  it !  Finger  prints,  you 
know !  " 

"  Right,  boy!  "  and  Stone  nodded,  approvingly. 
"  Pick  it  up,  Fibsy." 

:<  Yessir,"  and  taking  from  his  pocket  a  pair  of 


252  VICKY  VAN 

peculiar  shaped  tongs,  Terence  carefully  lifted  the 
knife  and  laid  it  on  the  glass-topped  dressing  table. 

"  Probly  all  smudged  anyway,"  he  muttered, 
squinting  closely  at  the  knife.  "  But  there's  sure 
some  marks  on  it !  Gee,  Mr.  Stone,  there's  sumpum 
doin' !  "  His  eyes  shone  and  his  skinny  little  fingers 
trembled  with  excitement  of  the  chase. 

Stone  studied  the  gold- fringed  dress.  The  blood 
stains  on  the  flounces,  though  dried  and  brown,  were 
unmistakable. 

"  Wonderful  woman !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Now, 
we've  got  this  dress,  and  what  of  it?  She  put  it 
here,  not  caring  whether  we  got  it  or  not.  She's 
gone  for  good.  She'll  never  be  taken.  This  proves 
it  to  my  mind." 

"And  the  knife?"  I  asked,  thrilling  with 
interest. 

"  There  you  are  again.  If  Miss  Van  Allen  put 
that  there  for  us  to  discover,  the  marks  on  it  are  of 
no  use.  Perhaps  some  she  had  put  there  purposely. 
You  see,  I'm  inclined  to  grant  her  any  degree  of 
cleverness  from  what  I  know  of  her  ability  so  far. 
She  is  a  witch.  She  can  hoodwink  anybody." 

"  Except  F.  Stone,  Esquire,"  amended  Fibsy. 
"  You  pussieve,  Mr.  Calhoun,  the  far-famed  detec 
tive,  is  already  onto  her  coives !  " 


THE  GOLD-FRINGED  GOWN  253 

Stone  looked  up  to  smile  at  the  boy's  speech,  but 
he  returned  his  gaze  to  the  golden-trimmed  gown. 

"  Of  course,"  he  said,  "  it  is  improbable  that  she 
took  this  off  before  she  left  the  house  that  night.  I 
opine  she  threw  a  big  cloak  round  her  and  rushed  out 
to  the  house  of  some  friend.  Likely  she  found  a 
taxicab  or  even  commandeered  some  waiting  pri 
vate  car  for  her  flight.  You  know,  we  are  dealing 
with  no  ordinary  criminal.  Now,  if  I  am  right, 
she  brought  this  gown  back  here  on  some  of  her  sub 
sequent  trips.  As  to  the  knife,  I  don't  know.  I 
see  no  explanation  as  yet.  Since  she  stabbed  her 
victim  with  another  knife — why  in  the  world  hide 
this  one  up  here?  What  say,  Fibsy?" 

"  'Way  past  me.  Maybe  she  was  usin'  both 
knives,  an'  the  other  one  turned  the  trick,  an'  when 
she  got  up  here  she  seen  she  had  this  one  still  in 
her  grip,  an'  she  slung  it  in  this  here  chest  to  hide  it. 
I  ain't  sure  that's  the  c'reck  answer,  but  it'll  do 
temp'rar'ly.  I  say,  Mr.  Stone,  I  got  an  awful  funny 
thing  to  ask  you." 

"  It  won't  be  the  first  funny  thing  you've  asked 
me,  Terence.  What  is  it?" 

"  Well,  it's  pretty  near  eatin'  time,  an' — aw, 
pshaw,  I  jest  can't  dare  to  say  it." 

"  Go  ahead,  old  chap,  I  can't  do  more  than 
annihilate  you." 


254  VICKY  VAN 

"  Well,  I  wanna  go  to  the  Schuylerses  to 
dinner." 

"To  dinner!" 

"  Yes,  sir.  An'  not  to  the  kitchen  eats,  neither. 
I  wanta  set  up  to  their  gran'  table  with  their  but- 
lerses  an'  feetmen,  an'  be  a  nonnerd  guest.  Kin  I, 
Mr.  Stone?  Say,  kinni?" 

Fleming  Stone  looked  at  the  eager,  flushed  face. 
He  knew  and  I  did,  too,  that  there  was  something 
back  of  this  request.  But  it  couldn't  be  anything  of 
vital  importance  to  our  mystery. 

"  Oh,  I  understand,"  said  Stone,  suddenly. 
fl  You've  taken  a  desperate  fancy  to  Mrs.  Schuyler 
and  you  want  to  further  the  acquaintance.  But  it 
isn't  often  done  that  way,  my  boy." 

"  Aw,  now,  don't  kid  me,  Mr.  Stone.  Either 
lemme  go  or  shut  down  on  it,  one  o'  the  six!  But 
it's  most  nessary,  I  do  assure  you." 

"  Maybe  she  won't  have  you.  Why  should  those 
grand  ladies  allow  a  boy  of  your  age  at  their  dinner- 
table?" 

"  Because  you  ask  'em,  sir."  Fibsy's  tone  was 
full  of  a  quiet  dignity. 

"  Very  well,  I'll  ask  them,"  and  Stone  went 
away  to  the  telephone. 

Fibsy  stood,  looking  raptly  at  the  gold  gown, 
and  now  and  then  his  eyes  turned  toward  the  knife 


THE  GOLD-FRINGED  GOWN  255 

on  the  dressing'table.  The  table  was  covered  with 
silver  toilet  implements,  and  save  for  its  unfitting 
suggestion,  the  knife  was  unnoticeable  among  the 
other  trinkets. 

"  It's  all  right,"  said  Stone,  returning.  "  Mrs. 
Schuyler  sends  a  cordial  invitation  for  all  three  of  us 
to  dine  with  her." 

"  Much  obliged,  I'll  be  there,"  said  Fibsy,  un- 
smilingly. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

FIBSY  DINES  OUT 

THAT  dinner  at  Ruth  Schuyler's  was  memorable. 
And,  yet,  it  was  in  no  way  markedly  unusual.  The 
service  was  perfect,  as  might  be  expected  in  that 
well-ordered  household,  and  the  guests  were  well 
behaved.  Fibsy,  thanks  to  Fleming  Stone's  thought 
ful  kindness,  was  arrayed  in  the  proper  dinner  garb 
of  a  schoolboy,  and  his  immaculate  linen  and  correct 
jacket  seemed  to  invest  him  in  a  mantle  of  polite 
ness  that  sat  well  on  his  youthful  buoyancy  and  en 
thusiasm. 

I  glanced  round  the  table.  It  was  a  strange 
combination  of  people.  Fleming  Stone  was  the  sort 
of  man  who  is  at  ease  anywhere,  and  I,  too,  am 
adaptable  by  nature.  But  the  Schuyler  sisters  were 
very  evidently  annoyed  at  the  idea  of  receiving  as 
an  equal  the  youth  whom  they  regarded  as  a  mere 
street  arab. 

Fibsy  had  become  a  firm  friend  of  Ruth's,  but  he 
couldn't  seem  to  like  the  other  ladies,  and  he  with 
difficulty  refrained  from  showing  this. 

The  Misses  Schuyler  were  impressive  in  their 
heavy  and  elaborate  mourning,  and  to  my  mind 
Ruth  looked  far  more  appropriately  dressed. 

£56 


FIBSY  DINES  OUT  257 

She  wore  a  black  and  white  striped  chiffon,  with 
touches  of  black  silk,  and  the  effect,  with  her  pale 
face  and  fair  hair  was  lovely.  A  breastknot  of  val 
ley  lilies  added  to  the  loveliness,  and  I  allowed  my 
eyes  to  feast  on  her  fairness.  I  had  thought  Ruth 
was  not  what  could  be  called  a  pretty  woman,  cer 
tainly  she  was  not  beautiful;  but  that  night  her 
charm  appealed  to  me  more  strongly  than  ever,  and 
I  concluded  that  her  air  of  high-bred  delicacy  and 
infinite  fineness  were  more  to  be  desired  than  mere 
beauty. 

Fibsy,  too,  devoured  her  with  his  eyes,  though 
discreetly,  and  when  he  thought  he  was  not 
observed. 

Fleming  Stone  devoted  himself  to  the  sisters; 
probably,  I  concluded,  because  he  was  in  their  em 
ploy,  and  so  owed  them  his  attention. 

Ruth  wore  her  beautiful  pearls,  and  referred 
to  the  fact,  half -apologetically,  saying  that  Mr. 
Schuyler  had  liked  always  to  see  them  on  her,  and 
she  felt  privileged  to  continue  to  use  them,  even  in 
her  mourning  period. 

"  You  like  only  poils — pearls,  don't  you,  Mrs. 
Schuyler?" 

Fibsy's  slip  of  pronunciation  was  due  to  his 
slight  embarrassment  at  his  novel  surroundings,  but 
he  valiantly  corrected  himself  and  ignored  it. 

17 


258  VICKY  VAN 

"  I  like  other  gems,"  Ruth  replied,  "  but  Mr. 
Schuyler  preferred  pearls,  and  gave  me  such  beauties 
that  I  have  grown  very  fond  of  them." 

"  I  remember,  Ruth,"  said  Sarah,  reminiscently, 
"  how  you  used  to  beg  Randolph  for  sapphires  and 
diamonds  instead.  You  even  wanted  semi-precious 
stones — turquoises  and  topaz.  Oh,  I  remember.  But 
Randolph  taught  you  that  pearls  were  the  best  taste 
for  a  young  matron  and  you  grudgingly  acquiesced." 

"  Oh,  not  grudgingly,  Sarah,"  and  Ruth  flushed 
at  the  reprimand  in  her  sister's  voice. 

"  Yes,  grudgingly.  Even  unwillingly.  In  fact, 
all  Randolph's  decisions  you  fought  until  he  made 
you  surrender.  You  know  how  you  wanted  gay- 
colored  gowns  until  he  made  you  see  that  grays  and 
mauves  were  better  taste." 

"  Never  mind  my  peccadilloes,"  said  Ruth,  light 
ly.  "  Let's  talk  of  something  less  personal." 

"  Let's  talk  about  the  weather,"  suggested  Fibsy, 
who  was  not  conducting  himself  on  the  seen  and 
not  heard  plan.  "  The  park  is  fine  now.  All  full 
o'  red  an'  gold  autumn  leaves.  Have  you  noticed  it, 
Mrs.  Schuyler?" 

"  Not  especially,"  and  Ruth  smiled  at  him,  in 
appreciation  of  his  conversational  help.  "  I  must 
walk  over  there  to'morrow." 


FIBSY  DINES  OUT  259 

"Yes,  'm.  An'  why  don't  you  go  for  a  long  motor 
ride  up  Westchester  way  ?  The  scenery's  great !" 

"  How  do  you  know,  have  you  been  there?" 

"  Not  just  lately,  but  I  was  last  fall.  Do  you 
remember  the  big  trees  just  at  the  turn  of  the  road 
by " 

But  Ruth  was  not  listening  to  the  child.  Stone 
had  said  something  that  claimed  her  attention. 

However,  Fibsy  was  unabashed.  With  no  trace 
of  forwardness,  but  with  due  belief  in  his  security 
of  position  as  a  guest,  he  continued  to  chatter  to 
Ruth,  and  rarely  addressed  any  one  else. 

He  has  something  up  his  sleeve,  I  thought,  for 
I  was  beginning  to  have  great  faith  in  the  lad's 
cleverness. 

He  sat  at  Ruth's  left  hand,  Stone  being  in  the 
seat  of  the  honor  guest,  and  as  that  left  me  between 
the  two  sisters,  I  was  doomed  to  participate  in  their 
chatter.  But  I  was  opposite  my  hostess  and  could 
enjoy  looking  at  her  in  the  intervals  of  conversation. 

Suddenly,  I  chanced  to  look  up  and  I  saw  Fibsy's 
comical  little  face  drawn  with  grimaces  as  he  sang 
a  snatch  of  a  popular  song. 

My  heart  goes  twirly-whirly 
When  I  see  my  pearlie  girlie, 
With  her 

"  Now,  what  is  that  next  line  ?    With  her ?" 


260  VICKY  VAN 

"  With  her  ring-around-a-rosy  curls !  "  supple 
mented  Ruth,  her  own  face  breaking  into  laughter, 
as,  caught  by  the  infection  of  Fibsy's  waggish 
gayety,  she  rounded  out  the  phrase. 

"  Yes,  that's  it,"  said  Fibsy,  eagerly,  "  and 

Her  teeth  like  little  shining  pearls, 
Oh,  she's  my  queen  of  all  the  girls, 
My  little  twirly-whirly,  pearlie  Girlie! 

Ruth  and  Fibsy  finished  the  silly  little  song  in 
concert,  and  Stone  clapped  his  hands  in  applause. 

Rhoda  sniffed  and  Sarah  acidly  remarked: 

"  How  can  you,  Ruth  ?  I  wish  you'd  be  a  little 
more  dignified." 

Quickly  the  light  went  out  of  Ruth's  eyes.  She 
looked  reproved,  and  though  she  didn't  resent  it,  a 
patient  sadness  came  into  her  eyes,  and  I  resolved 
that  I  would  do  all  I  could  to  get  it  arranged  that 
she  should  live  apart  from  the  two  carping,  criticiz 
ing  sisters. 

After  dinner  we  had  coffee  in  the  library.  Again, 
Fleming  Stone  took  it  upon  himself  to  entertain  the 
Misses  Schuyler,  and  I  drifted  toward  Ruth.  She 
sat  down  on  a  sofa  and  motioned  Fibsy  to  sit  beside 
her.  I  drew  a  chair  up  to  them  and  thanked  a  kind 
fate  that  let  us  all  leave  the  table  at  once,  dispensing 
with  a  more  formal  tarrying  of  the  men. 


PIBSY  DINES  OUT  261 

After  the  coffee  there  were  liqueurs.  I  glanced 
at  Fibsy  to  see  if  he  accepted  a  tiny  glass  from  the 
butler's  tray. 

He  did,  and,  moreover,  he  examined  the  con 
tents  with  the  air  of  a  connoisseur. 

"  Oo  de  vee  de  Dantzic,"  he  remarked,  holding 
up  his  glass  and  gazing  at  the  gold  flecks  in  it. 

We  all  smiled  at  him. 

"  Your  favorite  cordial,  Terence  ?"  asked  Stone, 
affably. 

"  Yessir.    Don't  you  love  it,  Mrs.  Schuyler?" 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  and  then,  "  why,  no,  I  don't 
love  it,  child.  But  one  gets  accustomed  to  something 
of  the  sort." 

"  But  don't  you  like  it  better  than  Cream  de 
mint  or  Benediction?"  he  persisted 

Ruth  laughed  outright.  "  How  do  you  know 
those  names,  you  funny  boy,"  she  said. 

"  Read  'em  on  the  big  signboards,"  he  returned. 
"  They  have  the  biggest  billboards  in  New  York  for 
one  of  these  lickures.  I  forget  which  one." 

"  These  are  what  I  like,"  said  Ruth,  smiling,  as 
the  footman  passed  a  small  bowl  of  sugared  rose- 
leaves  and  crisp  green  candied  mint  leaves.  "  Take 
some,  Terence.  They're  better  for  you  than  liqueurs. 
Help  yourself." 


262  VICKY  VAN 

"  They  are  good,"  and  Fibsy  obeyed  her.  "  They 
taste  like  goin'  into  a  florist's  shop." 

"  So  they  do,"  agreed  Ruth,  herself  taking  a 
goodly  portion. 

"  Rubbish,"  said  Rhoda.  "  I  think  these  things 
are  silly.  Randolph  would  never  allow  them." 

"  Now,  Rhoda,  there's  no  harm  in  a  few  candies," 
protested  Ruth,  and  then  she  changed  the  subject 
quickly,  for  she  evaded  a,  passage  at  arms  with  the 
sisters  whenever  possible. 

The  talk,  however,  soon  drifted  to  the  never  for 
gotten  subject  of  the  murder.  The  sisters  mulled 
over  all  they  had  heard  or  learned  during  the  day 
and  begged  Stone  to  propound  theories  or  make  de 
ductions  therefrom. 

Stone  obeyed,  as  that  was  what  he  was  employed 
for. 

"  I  think  Miss  Van  Allen  is  masquerading  as 
somebody  else,"  he  affirmed.  "  I  believe  she  is  in 
some  house  not  very  far  from  this  neighborhood, 
under  the  care  of  some  friend  and  accompanied 
and  looked  after  by  her  maid  Julie.  I  believe  she 
is  in  touch  with  all  that  goes  on,  not  only  from  the 
newspapers  but  by  means  of  some  spy  system  or 
secret  investigation.  But  the  net  is  drawing  round 
her.  I  cannot  say  just  how,  but  I  feel  sure  that  we 
shall  yet  get  her.  It  was  a  grievous  mischance  that 


FIBSY  DINES  OUT  263 

I  let  her  escape  last  night,  but  I  shall  have  another 
chance  at  her,  I'm  sure." 

"  And  then  you'll  arrest  her,"  said  Rhoda,  with 
a  snap  of  her  thin  lips. 

"  I  dare  say.  Lowney  tells  me  the  finger  prints 
on  the  little  knife  with  which  Mr.  Schuyler  was 
killed  are  clear  and  unmistakable,  but  we  have  not 
yet  found  out  whose  they  are." 

"And  can  you?"  said  Ruth,  anxiously. 

"  If  we  find  Miss  Van  Allen,"  said  Stone,  "  we 
can  at  least  see  if  they  are  her's." 

"  Pooh !  "  said  Fibsy  contemptuously,  "  why 
did'n'  youse  tell  me  before  that  you  had  the  claw 
prints?  I  kin  get  Miss  Van  Allen's  all  right,  all 
right!" 

"  How  ?"  said  I,  for  Fibsy  had  lapsed  into  the 
careless  speech  that  meant  business. 

"  Over  to  her  house.  Why,  they're  all  over. 
I've  only  gotto  photygraph  some  brushes  an'  things 
on  her  dressin'  table  to  get  all  the  prints  you  want." 

"That's  true,"  agreed  Stone.  "But  it  won't 
give  us  what  we  want.  Nobody  doubts  that  Miss 
Van  Allen  held  the  knife  that  stabbed  Mr.  Schuyler, 
and  to  prove  it  would  be  a  certain  satisfaction.  But 
what  we  want  is  the  woman  herself." 

It  was  then  that  I  noticed  Ruth's  maid,  Tibbetts, 
hovering  in  the  hall  outside  the  library  door. 


264  VICKY  VAN 

"  You  may  go  home,  Tibbetts,"  Ruth  said  to 
her,  kindly.  "  These  gentlemen  will  stay  late  and 
I'll  look  after  them  myself." 

Tibbetts  went  away,  and  Ruth  said,  explana 
torily,  "  My  maid  is  a  treasure.  I'd  like  to  have 
her  live  here,  but  she  is  devoted  to  her  own  little 
roof  tree  and  I  let  her  off  whenever  possible." 

I  knew  Tibbets  had  a  home  over  on  Second  or 
Third  Avenue,  and  I  thought  it  kind  of  Ruth  to  in 
dulge  her  in  this.  But  after  a  change  of  domicile 
herself  perhaps  Ruth  would  arrange  differently  for 
her  maid.  And,  too,  as  Winnie  had  often  told  me  of 
Ruth's  cleverness  and  efficiency  in  looking  after  her 
self  and  her  belongings,  I  well  knew  she  could  get 
along  without  a  maid  whenever  necessary. 

"  Did  you  ever  trace  that  picture  in  Mr.  Schuy- 
ler's  watch?"  Ruth  asked,  a  few  moments  later. 

"  Yes,"  I  said.  "  It  was  just  as  we  supposed. 
A  little  vaudeville  actress  whom  Mr.  SchuyJ.er  had 
taken  out  to  supper  gave  it  to  him,  and  he  stuck  it 
in  his  watch  case,  temporarily.  Her  name  is  Dotty 
Fay  and  she  seemed  to  know  little  about  Mr.  Schuy- 
ler  and  cared  less.  Merely  the  toy  of  an  evening, 
she  was  to  him,  and  merely  a  chance  that  the  picture 
was  in  his  watch  the  night  of  his  visit  to  Vicky 
Van's." 

We  had  come  to  discuss  the  personal  matters  of 


FIBSY  DINES  OUT  265 

Randolph  Schuyler  thus  freely,  for  we  were  all  at 
one  in  our  search  for  the  truth,  and  there  were  no 
secrets  or  evasions  among  us. 

Ruth  sighed,  but  I  knew  her  dear  face  so  well 
now  that  I  realized  it  was  not  from  personal  sor 
row,  but  a  general  regret  that  a  man  of  Schuyler 's 
ability  and  power  should  have  been  such  a  weakling, 
morally.  I  knew  she  had  never  loved  her  husband, 
but  she  had  been  a  faithful  and  dutiful  wife,  and 
no  word  or  hint  of  blame  had  ever  escaped  her  lips 
regarding  him.  She  had  been  a  martyr,  but  I  hadn't 
learned  this  from  her.  The  sisters,  though  uncon 
sciously,  told  me  much  of  the  deprivation  and  nar 
rowness  of  Ruth's  life.  Schuyler  had  ruled  her  with 
a  rod  of  iron,  and  she  had  never  rebelled,  though  at 
times  her  patience  was  nearly  worn  out. 

Later  in  the  evening  Fibsy  asked  for  some  phono 
graph  music,  expressing  his  great  delight  in  hearing 
a  really  fine  instrument  and  good  records. 

"  I  doubt  if  you'll  care  for  our  selections,"  Ruth 
remarked,  as  she  looked  over  the  cabinet  of  records. 
"  They're  almost  all  classical  or  old-fashioned 
songs." 

"  I  like  the  classical  kind,"  Fibsy  said,  endeav 
oring  to  be  agreeable.  "  Please  play  the  gayest  you 
have,  though." 

But  there  were  few  "  gay  "  ones  in  the  collec- 


266  VICKY  VAN 

tion.  Wagner's  operas  and  Beethoven's  solemn 
marches  gave  forth  their  noble  numbers  and  Fibsy 
sat,  politely  listening. 

"  No  ragtime,  I  s'pose?"  he  said,  after  a  particu 
larly  depressing  fugue  resounded  its  last  echoes. 

"  No,"  and  Ruth  glanced  at  him.  "  Mr.  Schuy- 
ler  didn't  care  for  rag  time — on  the  phonograph," 
she  added,  perhaps  remembering  Dotty  Fay. 

We  stayed  late.  Several  times  Stone  proposed  our 
departure,  but  Ruth  urged  us  to  remain  longer  or 
began  some  subject  of  interest  that  held  us  in  spite 
of  ourselves.  I  had  never  seen  her  so  entertaining. 
Indeed,  I  had  never  before  seen  her  in  what  might 
be  called  a  society  setting.  She  was  a  charming 
hostess,  and  the  occasion  seemed  to  please  her,  for 
there  was  a  pink  flush  on  her  cheeks  and  an  added 
brightness  to  her  gray  eyes  that  convinced  me  anew 
of  the  joy  she  could  take  in  simple  pleasures. 

She  singled  out  Fibsy  for  her  especial  attentions, 
and  the  boy  accepted  the  honor  with  a  gentle  grace 
that  astounded  me.  When  talking  to  her  he  lost  en 
tirely  his  slang  and  uncouth  diction  and  behaved 
as  to  the  manner  born.  He  was  chameleonic,  I  could 
see,  and  he  unconsciously  took  color  from  his 
surroundings. 

And  sometimes  I  caught  him  gazing  at  Ruth 


FIBSY  DINES  OUT  267 

with  a  strange  expression  that  mingled  amazement 
and  sadness,  and  I  couldn't  understand  it  at  all. 

Again,  I  would  find  Ruth's  eyes  fixed  on  me  with 
a  beseeching  glance  that  might  mean  anything  or 
nothing. 

As  a  whole  the  atmosphere  seemed  surcharged 
with  a  nameless  excitement,  almost  a  terror,  as  if 
something  dire  were  impending.  Once  or  twice  I 
saw  Stone  and  Terence  exchange  startled  glances, 
but  they  rarely  looked  at  each  other. 

There  was  something  brewing,  of  that  I  was 
sure.  But  whatever  it  was  it  did  not  affect  the 
Schuyler  sisters.  They  were  eager  to  talk,  anxious 
to  hear,  but  they  felt  nothing  of  the  undercurrent 
of  mysterious  meaning  that  affected  the  rest  of  us. 

I  was  glad  when  the  time  came  to  go.  It  was 
very  late,  nearly  midnight,  and  I  marveled  to  see  that 
Ruth  showed  no  sign  of  weariness.  The  sisters  had 
been  frankly  yawning  for  some  time,  but  Ruth's  eyes 
were  unnaturally  bright,  and  her  pale  cheeks  showed 
a  tiny  red  spot  on  either  side. 

She  shook  hands  nervously  and  her  voice  trem 
bled  as  she  said  good-night. 

Fleming  Stone  and  the  boy  were  moved,  I  could 
see  that,  but  they  made  their  adieux  without  refer 
ence  to  future  meeting  or  further  work  on  the 
mystery. 


268  VICKY  VAN 

We  went  away,  and  as  we  turned  the  corner,  I 
started  to  cross  the  street  to  go  to  my  home. 

"  Come  into  the  Van  Allen  house  a  few  min 
utes,  Calhoun,"  said  Stone,  gravely.  "  I've  some 
thing  to  tell  you." 

We  went  in  at  Vicky  Van's.  Stone's  manner 
was  ominous.  He  and  Fibsy  both  were  silent  and 
grave-looking. 

We  went  in  at  the  street  door,  into  the  hall  and 
then  to  the  living-room. 

Stone  and  I  sat  down,  and  Fibsy  darted  out  to 
the  dining-room,  back  to  the  hall  and  up  the  stairs, 
flashing  on  lights  as  he  went. 

In  silence  Stone  lighted  a  cigar  and  offered  me 
one,  which  I  took,  feeling  a  strange  notion  that  the 
end  of  the  world  was  about  to  come. 

In  another  moment  Fibsy  came  slowly  down 
stairs,  walked  into  the  living-room,  where  we  were, 
gave  one  look  at  Stone,  and  then  threw  himself  on 
a  divan,  buried  his  face  in  the  cushions  and  burst 
into  tears.  His  thin  little  frame  shook  with  sobs, 
great,  deep,  heart-rending,  nerve-racking  sobs,  that 
made  my  own  heart  stand  still  with  fear. 

What  could  it  all  mean  ?      What  ailed  the  boy  ? 

"  Tell  me,  Stone,"  I  begged,  "  what  is  it?  What 
has  upset  him  so?" 


FIBSY  DINES  OUT  269 

"  He  has  found  Vicky  Van,"  said  Fleming  Stone. 
"  And  it  has  broken  his  heart." 

"  What  do  you  mean?  Don't  keep  me  in  this 
suspense!  Where  is  Vicky?  Upstairs?" 

"  No,"  said  Stone,  "  not  now." 

"  Explain,  please,"  I  said,  beginning  to  get  angry. 

"  I  will,"  said  Stone. 

"No!"  cried  Fibsy,  "no,  Mr.  Stone,  let  me 
t-t-tell.  W-wait  a  minute,  I'll  tell.  Oh,  oh,  I  knew 
it  all  day,  b-b-but  I  couldn't  believe  it !  I  wouldn't 
believe  it !  Why,  Mr.  Calhoun,  Vicky  Van  is — is — 
why,  Mrs.  Schuyler  is  Vicky  Van!" 


CHAPTER  XIX 

PROOFS    AND    MORE    PROOFS 

"You  are  absolutely  crazy!"  I  said,  laughing, 
though  the  laugh  choked  in  my  throat,  as  I  looked  at 
Stone.  "  You  see,  Fibsy,  you're  gone  dotty  over  this 
thing,  and  you're  running  round  in  circles.  I  know 
both  Mrs.  Schuyler  and  Miss  Van  Allen,  and  they've 
nothing  in  common.  There  couldn't  be  two  people 
more  dissimilar." 

"  That's  just  it — that's  how  I  know,"  wailed  the 
boy.  "  That's  how  I  first  caught  on.  You  see — 
oh,  tell  him,  Mr.  Stone." 

"  The  boy  is  right,"  said  Stone,  slowly.  "  And 
the- 

"He  can't  be  right!  It's  impossible!"  I  fairly 
shouted,  as  thoughts  came  flashing  into  my  mind — 
dreadful  thoughts,  appalling  thoughts ! 

Ruth  Schuyler  and  Vicky  Van  one  person !  Why, 
then,  Ruth  killed — No!  a  thousand  times  NO!  It 
couldn't  be  true!  The  boy  was  insane,  and  Stone 
was,  too.  I'd  show  them  their  own  foolishness. 

"  Stop  a  minute,  Stone,"  I  said,  trying  to  speak 
calmly.  "  You  and  the  boy  never  knew  Vicky  Van. 
You  never  saw  her,  except  as  she  ran  along  the  street 

270 


PROOFS  AND  MORE  PROOFS  *71 

for  a  few  steps  at  midnight.  And  Terence  didn't 
see  her  then.  It's  too  absurd,  this  theory  of  yours ! 
But  it  startled  me,  when  you  sprung  it.  Now,  Fibsy, 
stop  your  sobbing  and  tell  me  what  makes  you  think 
this  foolish  thing,  and  I'll  relieve  your  mind  of  any 
such  ideas." 

"  I  don't  blame  you,  Mr.  Calhoun,"  and  Fibsy 
mopped  his  eyes  with  his  wet  handkerchief.  He 
was  a  strange  little  figure,  in  his  new  clothes,  but 
with  his  red  hair  tumbled  and  his  eyes  big  and 
swollen  with  weeping.  "  I  know  you  can't  believe 
it,  but  you  listen  a  bit,  while  I  tell  Mr.  Stone  some 
things.  Then  you'll  see." 

"  Yes,  Terence,"  said  Stone;  "  go  ahead.  What 
about  the  prints?" 

"  They  prove  up,"  and  Fibsy's  woe  increased 
afresh.  "  They  ain't  no  shadder  of  doubt.  The 
very  reason  I  know  they're  the  same  is  'cause  they're 
so  unlike.  Yes,  I'll  explain — wait  a  minute " 

Again  a  crying  spell  overwhelmed  him,  and  we 
waited. 

"  Now,"  he  said,  regaining  self-control,  "  now 
I've  spilled  all  my  tears  I'll  out  with  it.  The  first 
thing  that  struck  me  was  the  abserlute  unlikeness  of 
those  two  ladies.  I  mean  in  their  tastes  an'  ways. 
Why,  fer  instance,  an'  I  guess  it  was  jest  about  the 
very  first  thing  I  noticed,  was  the  magazines.  In 


272  VICKY  VAN 

here,  on  Miss  Van  Allen's  table,  as  you  can  see  your 
self,  is — jest  look  at  'em !  Vogue,  Vanity  Fair,  Life, 
Cosmopolitan,  an'  lots  of  light-weight  story  maga 
zines.  In  at  Schuylers'  house  is  Atlantic  Monthly, 
Harper's,  Century,  The  Forum,  The  North  Ameri 
can  Review,  and  a  lot  of  other  highbrow  reading. 
An'  it  ain't  only  that  the  magazines  in  here  are  gayer 
an'  lighter,  an'  in  there  heavier  an'  wiser ;  but  there 
isn't  a  single  duplicate!  Now,  Miss  Vicky  Van 
likes  good  readin',  you  can  see  from  her  books  an' 
all,  so  why  don't  she  take  Harper's  an'  Century? 
'Cause  she  has  'em  in  her  other  home " 

"  But,  wait,  child,"  I  cried,  getting  bewildered ; 
"  you  don't  mean  Vicky  Van  lives  sometimes  in  this 
house  and  sometimes  in  the  Schuyler  house  as  its 
mistress !" 

"  That's  jest  what  I  do  mean.  I  know  it  sounds 
like  I  was  batty,  but  let  me  tell  more.  Well,  it  seemed 
queer  that  there  shouldn't  be  any  one  magazine  took 
in  both  houses,  but,  of  course,  that  wasn't  no  real 
proof.  I  only  noticed  it,  an'  it  set  me  a  thinkin'. 
Then  I  sized  up  their  situations.  Mrs.  Schuyler  's 
dignified  an'  quiet  in  her  ways,  simple  in  her  dress, 
wears  only  poils,  no  other  sparklers  whatever.  Vicky 
Van's  gay  of  action,  likes  giddy  rags,  and  adores 
gorgeous  jewelry,  even  if  it  ain't  the  most  realest 
kind.  Now,  wait — don't  interrup'  me.  Lemme  talk 


PROOFS  AND  MORE  PROOFS  273 

it  out.  'Cause  it's  killin'  me,  an'  I  gotter  get  it 
over  with.  Well,  all  Mrs.  Schuyler's  things — fur 
nicher,  I  mean — is  big  an'  heavy  an'  massive,  an'  ter 
rible  expensive.  Yes,  I  know  her  husband  made 
her  have  it  that  way.  But  never  mind  that.  Vicky 
Van's  furnicher  is  all  gay  an'  light  an'  pretty  an' 
dainty  colorin'  and  so  forth.  And  the  day  the  old 
sister-in-laws  was  in  here  they  said,  '  How  Ruth 
would  admire  to  have  things  like  these!  'Member 
how  she  begged  Randolph  to  do  up  her  boodore  in 
wicker  an'  pink  silk  ?'  That's  what  they  said !  Oh, 
well,  I  got  a  bug  then  that  the  two  ladies  I'm  talkin' 
about  was  just  the  very  oppositest  I  ever  did  see! 
Then,  another  thing  was  the  records.  The  phony- 
graft  in  here  is  full  of  light  opery  and  poplar  music 
like  that.  Not  a  smell  o'  fugues  and  classic  stuff. 
An'  in  at  Schuyler's,  as  we  seen  to-night,  there's 
no  gay  songs,  no  comic  operas,  no  ragtime." 

"  But,  Terence,"  I  broke  in,  "  that  all  proves 
nothing !  The  Schuylers  don't  care  for  ragtime  and 
Vicky  Van  does.  You  mustn't  distort  those  plain 
facts  to  fit  your  absurd  theory !" 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  his  eyes  burning  as  they  glared 
into  mine.  "An'  Mr.  Schuyler  he  wouldn't  never  let 
his  wife  go  to  the  light  operas  or  vodyville,  an'  she 
hadn't  any  records,  so  how — how,  I  ask  you,  comes 
it  that  she's  so  familiar  with  the  song  about  '  My 
Pearlie  Girlie '  that  she  joined  in  the  singin'  of  it 

18 


274  VICKY  VAN 

with  me  at  the  dinner  table  to-night?  That's  what 
clinched  it.  Mrs.  Schuyler,  she  knew  that  song's 
well  as  I  did,  and  she  picked  it  up  where  I  left  off 
and  hummed  it  straight  to  the  end — words  and 
music!  How'd  she  know  it,  I  say?" 

"  Why,  she  might  have  picked  that  up  anywhere. 
She  goes  to  see  friends,  I've  no  doubt,  who  are  not 
so  straight-laced  as  the  Schuylers,  and  they  play 
light  tunes  for  her." 

"  Not  likely.  I've  run  down  her  friends,  and 
they're  all  old  fogies  like  the  sister  dames  or  like 
old  man  Schuyler  himself.  The  old  ladies  are  nearly 
sixty  and  Mr.  Schuyler  was  fifty  odd,  and  all  their 
friends  are  along  about  those  ages,  and  Mrs.  Schuy 
ler,  she  ain't  got  any  friends  of  her  own  age  at  all. 
But,  as  Vicky  Van,  she  has  friends  of  her  own  age, 
yes,  an'  her  own  tastes,  an'  her  own  ways  of  life 
an'  livin.'  An'  she's  got  the  record  of  '  My  Pearlie 
Girlie.'  " 

"  It's  true,  Calhoun,"  said  Fleming  Stone.  "  I 
know  it's  all  incredible,  but  it's  true.  I  couldn't  be" 
lieve  it,  myself,  when  Fibsy  hinted  it  to  me — for  it's 
his  find — to  him  belongs  all  the  credit " 

"  Credit !"  I  groaned.  "  Credit  for  fastening 
this  lie,  this  base  lie — oh,  you  are  well  named  Fibsy ! 
— on  the  best  and  loveliest  woman  that  ever  lived! 
For  it  is  a  lie!  Not  a  word  of  truth  in  it.  A  dis 
torted  notion  of  a  crazy  brain !  A " 


PROOFS  AND  MORE  PROOFS  275 

"  Hold  on,  Calhoun,"  remonstrated  Stone,  and 
I  dare  say  I  was  acting  like  a  madman.  "  Listen 
to  the  rest  of  this  more  quietly  or  take  your  hat  and 
go  home." 

Stone  spoke  firmly,  but  not  angrily,  and  I  sat 
still. 

"  Then,  here's  some  more  things,"  Fibsy  con 
tinued.  "  I've  gone  over  this  house  with  a  eye  that 
sees  more'n  Mr.  Stone's  lens,  an'  it  don't  magnerfy, 
neither.  I  spotted  a  lot  of  stuff  in  the  pantry  and 
storeroom.  It's  all  stuff  that  keeps,  you  know ;  little 
jugs  an'  pots  of  fine  eatin' — imported  table  delicacies 
—that's  what  they  call  'em.  Well,  an'  among  'em 
was  lickures  an'  things  like  that.  And  boxes  of 
candied  rose  leaves  an'  salted  nuts — oh,  all  them 
things.  An'  that's  why  I  wanted  to  go  to  dinner  at 
Mrs.  Schuyler's  an'  see  if  she  liked  to  eat  those 
things.  An'  she  did!  She  had  the  rose  leaves  an' 
she  had  the  kind  o'  lickure  that 's  down  in  the  pantry 
cupboard  in  this  house.  An'  she  said  it  was  her 
fav'rite,  an'  the  old  girls  said  she  never  used  to  have 
those  things  when  her  husband  was  runnin'  the 
house — an'  oh,  dear,  can't  you  see  it  all?" 

"  Yes,  I  see  it,"  said  Stone,  but  I  still  shook  my 
head  doggedly  and  angrily. 

"  I  don't  see  it!"  I  declared.  "  There's  nothing 
to  all  this  but  a  pipe  dream!  Why  shouldn't  two 


276  VICKY  VAN 

women  like  Eau  de  vie  de  Dantzic  as  a  liqueur  ?  It's 
very  fashionable — a  sort  of  fad,  just  now." 

"  It  ain't  only  this  thing  or  that  thing,  Mr.  Cal- 
houn,"  said  Fibsy,  earnestly.  "It's  the  pilin'  up  of 
all  'em.  An'  I  ain't  through  yet.  Here's  another 
point.  Miss  Van  Allen,  she  ain't  got  any  pitchers 
of  nature  views — no  landscapes  nor  woodsy  dells  in 
this  whole  house.  She  jest  likes  pitchers  of  people 
— pretty  girls,  an'  old  cavalier  gentlemen,  an  nymps, 
an'  kiddy  babies — but  all  human,  you  know.  Now, 
Mrs.  Schuyler,  she  don't  care  anythin'  special  for 
nature,  neither.  I  piped  up  about  the  beauty  scenery 
out  Westchester  way  an'  over  in  the  park,  an'  it  left 
her  cold  an'  onintrusted.  But  she  has  portfolios  of 
world  masterpieces,  or  whatever  you  call  'em,  over  to 
that  house,  an'  they're  all  rigger  pieces." 

"  And  her  writing  desk,"  prompted  Stone. 

"  Yessir,  that  checked  up,  too.  You  know,  Mr. 
Calhoun,  they  ain't  nothin'  more  intim'tly  pers'nal 
than  a  writin'  desk.  Well,  Miss  Van  Allen's  has  a 
certain  make  of  pen,  an'  a  certain  number  and  kind 
of  pencils.  An'  Mrs.  Schuyler,  she  uses  the  same 
identical  styles  an'  numbers." 

"  And  notepaper,  I  suppose,"  I  flung  back, 
sarcastically. 

"  No,  sir,  but  that  helps  prove.  The  note  paper 
in  the  two  houses  is  teetumteetotally  different !  That 
was  planned  to  be  different!  Mrs.  Schuyler's  is  a 


PROOFS  AND  MORE  PROOFS  277 

pale  gray,  plain  paper.  Miss  Van  Allen's  is  light 
pink,  to  match  her  boodore,  I  s'pose.  An'  it  has 
that  sort  of  indented  frame  round  it,  that's  extry 
fashionable,  an'  a  vviggly  gold  monogram,  oh — quite 
a  big  one!" 

I  well  remembered  Vicky's  stationery,  and  the 
boy  described  it  exactly. 

"Proves  nothing!"  I  said,  contemptuously,  but 
I  listened  further. 

"  All  right,"  Fibsy  said,  wearily  pushing  back 
his  shock  of  red  hair.  "Well,  then,  how's  this? 
On  Mrs.  Schuyler's  desk  the  pen  wiper  is  a  fancy 
little  contraption,  but  it's  clean — I  mean  it's  never 
had  a  pen  wiped  on  it.  Miss  Van  Allen's  desk 
hasn't  got  any  pen  wiper.  On  each  desk  is  a  pencil 
sharpener,  of  the  same  sort.  On  each  desk  is  a  little 
pincushion,  with  the  same  size  of  tiny  pins,  like  she 
was  in  the  habit  of  pinnin'  bills  together  or  sumpum 
like  that.  On  each  desk  the  blotter  is  in  the  same 
place  and  is  used  the  same  way.  There's  a  lot  of 
pussonality  'bout  the  way  folks  use  a  blotter.  Some 
uses  both  sides,  some  only  one  side.  Some  has  their 
blotters  all  torn  an'  sorta  nibbled  round  the  edges, 
an'  some  has  'em  neat  and  trim.  Well,  the  blotters 
on  these  two  desks  is  jest  alike " 

"  But,  Fibsy,"  I  cried  in  triumph,  "  I've  seen  the 
handwriting  of  these  two  ladies,  over  and  over 
again,  and  they're  not  a  bit  alike !" 


278  VICKY  VAN 

"I  know  it,"  and  Fibsy  nodded.  "But,  Mr. 
Calhoun,  did  you  know  that  Miss  Van  Allen  always 
writes  with  her  left  hand  ?" 

"  No,  and  I  don't  believe  she  does !" 

"  Yessir.  I  went  to  the  bank  an'  they  said  so. 
An'  I  asked  the  sewin'  woman,  an'  she  said  so.  An' 
I  asked  the  caterer  people  an'  they  said  so.  And 
the  inkstand  is  on  the  left'hand  side  of  Miss  Van 
Allen's  desk." 

"All  right,  then  she  is  left-handed,  but  that 
proves  nothing!" 

"  No,  sir,  Miss  Van  Allen  ain't  left-handed.  You 
know  she  ain't  yourself.  You'd  'a'  noticed  it  if  she 
had  been.  But  she  writes  left-handed,  'cause  if  she 
didn't  she'd  write  like  Mrs.  Schuyler!" 

"  Oh,  rubbish !  "  I  began,  but  Fleming  Stone 
interrupted. 

"  Wait,  Calhoun,  don't  fly  to  pieces.  All  Terence 
is  saying  is  quite  true.  I  vouch  for  it.  Listen 
further." 

"  They  ain't  no  use  goin'  further,"  said  Fibsy, 
despondently.  "  Mr.  Calhoun  knows  I'm  right,  only 
he  can't  bring  himself  to  believe  it,  an'  I  don't  blame 
him.  Why,  even  now,  he's  sizin'  up  the  case  an' 
everything  he  thinks  of  proves  it  an'  nothin'  dis 
proves  it.  But  anyway,  the  prints  prove  it  all." 

"  Prints  ?"  I  said,  half  dazedly. 


PROOFS  AND  MORE  PROOFS  279 

"  Yessir.  I  photographed  a  lot  o'  finger  prints  in 
both  houses,  an'  the  Headquarters  people  fixed  'em 
up  for  me,  magnerfied  'em,  you  know,  an'  printed 
'em  on  little  cards,  an'  as  you  can  see,  they're  all  the 
same." 

I  glanced  at  the  sheaf  of  cards  the  boy  had 
and  Fleming  Stone  took  them  to  scrutinize. 

"  I  got  those  prints  from  all  sorts  of  places," 
Fibsy  went  on.  "  Off  of  the  glass  bottles  and  things 
in  the  bathrooms  and  off  of  the  hair  brushes  and 
such  things,  an'  off  of  the  envelopes  of  letters,  an' 
off  the  chairbacks  an'  any  polished  wood  surfaces, 
an'  I  got  lots  of  'em  in  both  houses,  an'  the  police 
people  picked  out  the  best  an'  cleanest  an'  fixed  'em 
up,  an'  there  you  are!" 

They  seemed  to  think  this  settled  the  matter.  But 
I  would  not  be  convinced.  Of  course,  I'd  been  told 
dozens  of  times  that  no  two  people  in  the  world  have 
finger  prints  alike,  but  that  didn't  mean  a  thing  to 
me.  It  might  be,  I  told  them,  that  Vicky  Van  and 
Ruth  Schuyler  were  friends,  that  Ruth  had  withheld 
this  fact,  and  that — — 

"  No,"  said  Stone,  "  not  friends,  but  identical — 
the  same  woman.  And,  listen  to  this.  Mrs.  Schuyler 
heard  us  say  this  evening  that  Fibsy  could  photo 
graph  the  brushes  and  such  things  over  here  to  get 
Miss  Van  Allen's  finger  prints,  and  what  does  she 
do?  She  sends  Tibbetts  over  to  scrub  and  wipe 


280  VICKY  VAN 

off  those  same  brushes,  also  the  mirrors,  chairbacks 
and  all  such  possible  evidence.  A  hopeless  task — 
for  the  woman  couldn't  eradicate  all  the  prints  in 
the  house.  And,  also,  it  was  too  late,  for  Fibsy  had 
already  done  his  camera  work." 

"How  do  you  know  she  did  all  that?"  and  I 
glowered  at  the  detective. 

"  Because  Fibsy  just  told  me  he  found  evidences 
of  this  cleaning  up,  and,  too,  because  Mrs.  Schuyler 
purposely  kept  us  over  there  longer  than  we  intended 
to  stay.  You  know  how,  when  we  proposed  to  say 
good-night,  she  urged  us  to  stay  longer.  That  was 
to  give  her  maid  more  time  for  the  work.  Now, 
Mr.  Calhoun,  go  on  with  your  objections  to  our 
conclusions.  It  helps  our  theory  to  answer  your 
refutations." 

"  Her  letters,"  I  mumbled,  scarce  able  to  formu 
late  my  teeming  thoughts.  "  Vicky  Van  sent  a  let 
ter  to  Ruth  Schuyler " 

"Of  course,  she  did.  Wrote  it  herself,  with  her 
left  hand,  and  mailed  it  to  her  other  personality,  in 
order  to  make  the  police  give  up  the  search.  And, 
too,  the  letter  from  Miss  Van  Allen,  found  in  Ran 
dolph  Schuyler's  desk  after  his  death,  was  written 
and  placed  there  by  Mrs.  Schuyler  for  us  to  find." 

"Impossible!"  I  cried.  "I  won't  allow  these 
libels.  You'll  be  saying  next  that  Ruth  Schuyler 
killed  her  husband !" 


PROOFS  AND  MORE  PROOFS  281 

"  She  did,"  asserted  Fleming  Stone,  gravely. 
"  She  did  kill  him,  in  her  character  as  Vicky  Van. 
Don't  you  see  it  all  ?  Schuyler  came  here  as  Somers, 
never  dreaming  that  Vicky  Van  was  his  own  wife  in 
disguise.  Or,  he  may  have  suspected  it,  and  may 
have  come  to  verify  his  suspicion.  Any  way,  when 
she  saw  and  recognized  him,  whether  he  knew  her  or 
not,  she  lured  him  out  to  the  dining  room  and  stabbed 
him  with  the  caterer's  knife." 

"Never!"  I  said.  I  was  not  ranting  now,  I 
was  stunned  by  the  revelations  that  were  coming  so 
thick  and  fast.  I  couldn't  believe  and  yet  I  couldn't 
doubt.  Of  one  thing  I  was  certain,  I  would  defend 
Ruth  Schuyler  to  the  end  of  time.  I  would  defend 
her  against  Vicky  Van — why,  if  Ruth  was  Vicky 
Van — where  was  this  moil  to  end !  I  couldn't  think 
coherently.  But  I  suddenly  realized  that  what  they 
told  me  was  true.  I  realized  that  all  along  there 
were  things  about  Ruth  that  had  reminded  me  of 
Vicky.  I  had  never  put  this  into  words,  never  had 
really  sensed  it,  but  I  saw  now,  looking  back,  that 
they  had  much  in  common. 

Appearance!    Ah,  I  hadn't  yet  thought  of  that. 

"  Why,"  I  exclaimed,  "  the  two  are  not  in  the 
least  alike,  physically!" 

"  Miss  Van  Allen  wore  a  black  wig,"  said  Stone. 
"  A  most  cleverly  constructed  one,  and  she  rouged 


282  VICKY  VAN 

her  cheeks,  penciled  her  eyelashes  and  reddened  her 
lips  to  produce  the  high  coloring  that  marked  her 
from  Mrs.  Schuyler." 

I  thought  this  over,  dully.  Yes,  they  were  the 
same  height  and  weight,  they  had  the  same  slight 
figure,  but  it  had  never  occurred  to  me  to  compare 
their  physical  effects.  I  was  a  bit  near-sighted  and 
I  had  never  taken  enough  real  personal  interest  in 
Vicky  to  learn  to  love  her  features  as  I  had  Ruth's. 

"  You  see,"  Fleming  Stone  was  saying,  though 
I  scarce  listened,  "  you  are  the  only  person  that  I 
have  been  able  to  find  who  knows  both  Miss  Van 
Allen  and  Mrs.  Schuyler.  No  one  else  has  testified 
who  knows  them  both.  So  much  depends  on  you." 

"  You'll  get  nothing  from  me !  "  I  fairly  shouted. 
"  They're  not  the  same  woman  at  all.  You're  all 
wrong,  you  and  your  lying  boy  there !" 

"  Your  vehemence  stultifies  your  own  words," 
said  Stone,  quietly ;  "  it  proves  your  own  realization 
of  the  truth  and  your  anger  and  fury  at  that  realiza 
tion.  I  don't  blame  you.  I  know  your  regard  for 
Mrs.  Schuyler,  I  know  you  have  always  been  a  friend 
of  Miss  Van  Allen.  It  is  not  strange  that  one 
woman  attracts  you,  since  the  other  did.  But  you've 
got  to  face  this  thing,  so  be  a  man  and  look  at  it 
squarely.  I'll  help  you  all  I  can,  but  I  assure  you 
there's  nothing  to  be  gained  by  denial  of  the  self-evi 
dent  truth." 


283 

"  But,  man,"  I  said,  trying  to  be  calm,  '"  the 
whole  thing  is  impossible!  How  could  Mrs.  Ran 
dolph  Schuyler,  a  well-known  society  lady,  live  a 
double  life  and  enact  Miss  Van  Allen,  a  gay  butter 
fly  girl  ?  How  could  she  get  from  one  house  to  the 
other  unobserved  ?  Why  wouldn't  her  servants  know 
of  it,  even  if  her  family  didn't?  How  could  she 
hoodwink  her  husband,  her  sisters-in-law,  and  her 
friends?  Why  didn't  people  see  her  leaving  one 
house  and  entering  the  other?  Why  wasn't  she 
missed  from  one  house  when  she  was  in  the  other?" 

"  All  answerable  questions,"  said  Stone.  "  You 
know  Miss  Van  Allen  went  away  frequently  on  long 
trips,  and  was  in  and  out  of  her  home  all  the  time. 
Here  to-day  and  gone  to-morrow,  as  every  one  testi 
fies  who  knew  her." 

This  was  true  enough.  Vicky  was  never  at  home 
more  than  a  few  days  at  a  time  and  then  absent  for 
a  week  or  so.  Where?  In  the  Fifth  Avenue  house 
as  Ruth  Schuyler  ?  Incredible !  Preposterous !  But 
as  I  began  to  believe  at  last,  true. 

"  How?"  I  repeated;  "  how  could  she  manage?" 

"  Walls  have  tongues,"  said  Stone.  "  These 
walls  and  this  house  tell  me  all  the  story.  That  is, 
they  tell  me  this  wonderful  woman  did  accomplish 
this  seemingly  impossible  thing.  They  tell  me  how 
she  accomplished  it.  But  they  do  not  tell  me  why." 

"  There's  no  question  about   the  why,"   I   re- 


284  VICKY  VAN 

turned.  "  If  Ruth  Schuyler  did  live  two  lives  it's 
easily  understood  why.  Because  that  brute  of  a  man 
allowed  her  no  gayety,  no  pleasure,  no  fun  of  any 
sort  compatible  with  her  youth  and  tastes.  He  let 
her  do  nothing,  have  nothing,  save  in  the  old,  hum 
drum  ways  that  appealed  to  his  notion  of  propriety. 
But  he  himself  was  no  Puritan!  He  ran  his  own 
gait,  and,  unknown  to  his  wife  and  sisters,  he  was 
a  roue  and  a  rounder!  Whatever  Ruth  Schuyler 
may  have  done,  she  was  amply  justified " 

"Even  in  killing  him?" 

"  She  didn't  kill  him !  Look  here,  Mr.  Stone, 
even  if  all  you've  said  is  true,  you  haven't  convicted 
her  of  murder  yet.  And  you  shan't!  I'll  protect 
that  woman  from  the  breath  of  scandal  or  slander — 
and  that's  what  it  is  when  you  accuse  her  of  killing 
that  man !  She  never  did  it !" 

"  That  remains  to  be  seen,"  and  Fleming  Stone's 
deep  gray  eyes  showed  a  sad  apprehension.  "  But 
nothing  can  be  done  to-night.  Can  there,  Terence?" 

"  No,  Mr.  Stone,  not  to-night.  No,  by  no  means, 
not  to-night!  It  wouldn't  do!"  The  boy's  earnest 
ness  seemed  to  me  out  of  all  proportion  to  his  simple 
statement,  but  I  could  stand  no  more  and  I  went 
home,  to  spend  the  night  in  a  dazed  wonder,  a  furi 
ous  disbelief,  and  finally  an  enforced  conviction  that 
Vicky  Van  and  Ruth  Schuyler  were  one  and  the 
same. 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE  TRUTH   FROM   RUTH 

NEXT  morning  I  was  conscious  of  but  one  desire, 
to  get  to  Ruth  and  tell  her  of  my  love  and  faith  in 
her,  and  assure  her  of  my  protection  and  assistance 
whatever  happened. 

Whatever  happened !  The  thought  struck  me 
like  a  knell.  What  could  happen  but  her  arrest  and 
trial  ? 

But  as  I  went  out  of  my  own  door — I  left  the 
house  early,  for  I  couldn't  face  Aunt  Lucy  and 
Winnie — I  suddenly  decided  it  would  be  better  to 
see  Stone  first  and  learn  if  anything  had  transpired 
since  I  left  him. 

I  rang  the  bell  at  Vicky  Van's  house  with  a  ter 
rible  feeling  of  impending  disaster,  that  might  be 
worse  than  any  yet  known. 

Fibsy  let  me  in.  I  wanted  to  hate  that  boy  and 
yet  his  very  evident  adoration  of  Ruth  Schuyler 
made  me  love  him.  I  knew  all  that  he  had  discov 
ered  had  been  as  iron  entering  his  soul,  but  his  duty 
led  him  on  and  he  dared  not  pause  or  falter. 

"  We  may  as  well  tell  him,"  he  said  to  Stone, 
and  the  detective  nodded. 

285 


286  VICKY  VAN 

"  But  come  downstairs  with  us  and  have  a  cup 
of  coffee  first,"  Stone  said;  "you'll  need  it,  as  you 
say  you've  had  no  breakfast.  Fibsy  makes  first-rate 
coffee,  and  I  can  tell  you,  Calhoun,  you've  a  hard 
day  before  you." 

"Have  you  learned  anything  further?"  I  man 
aged  to  stammer  out  as  we  went  down  to  the  base 
ment  room  that  they  used  as  a  dining-room  now. 

"  Yes ;  as  I  told  you,  walls  have  tongues,  and 
the  walls  have  given  up  the  secret  of  how  Mrs. 
Schuyler  managed  her  two-sided  existence." 

But  he  would  not  tell  me  the  secret  until  I  had 
been  fortified  with  two  cups  of  steaming  Mocha, 
which  fully  justified  his  praise  of  Fibsy's  culinary 
prowess. 

Fibsy  himself  said  nothing  beyond  a  brief  "  good 
morning,"  and  the  lad's  eyes  were  red  and  his  voice 
shook  as  he  spoke. 

"  I  knew,"  Stone  said,  as  we  finished  breakfast, 
"  that  there  must  be  some  means,  some  secret  means 
of  communication  between  the  two  houses,  the 
Schuyler  house  and  this.  You  see,  the  Schuyler 
house,  fronting  on  Fifth  Avenue,  three  doors  from 
the  corner,  runs  back  a  hundred  feet,  and  abuts  on 
the  rear  rooms  of  this  house,  which  runs  back  from 
the  side  street.  In  a  word,  the  two  houses  form  a 
right  angle,  and  the  back  wall  of  the  Schuyler  house 


THE  TRUTH  FROM  RUTH  287 

is  directly  against  the  side  wall  of  the  rear  rooms  of 
this  house.  Therefore,  I  felt  sure  there  must  be  an 
entrance  from  one  house  to  the  other,  not  perceiv 
able  to  an  observer.  And,  of  course,  it  must  be  in 
Mrs.  Schuyler's  own  rooms;  it  couldn't  be  in  their 
dining-room  or  halls.  A  few  questions  made  me 
realize  that  Miss  Van  Allen's  boudoir  was  sepa 
rated  from  Mrs.  Schuyler's  bath  room  by  only  the 
partition  wall  of  the  houses.  And  I  said  that  wall 
must  speak  to  me.  And  it  did." 

We  were  now  on  our  way  upstairs,  Stone  ready 
at  last  to  let  me  into  the  secret  he  had  discovered. 

We  went  to  Vicky's  boudoir,  and  he  continued : 
"You  know  you  found  the  strand  of  gilt  beads 
caught  in  this  mirror  frame.  We  all  assumed  Miss 
Van  Allen  had  flirted  it  there  as  she  dressed  for 
her  party,  but  I  reasoned  that  it  might  have  caught 
there  as  she  escaped  to  the  Schuyler  house  the  night 
of  the  murder.  Yes,  she  did  escape  this  way — look." 

Stone  touched  a  hidden  spring  and  the  mirror  in 
the  Florentine  frame  slid  silently  aside  into  the  wall, 
leaving  an  aperture  that  without  doubt  led  into  the 
next  house.  The  frame  remained  stationary,  but  the 
mirror  slid  away  as  a  sliding  door  works,  and  so 
smoothly  that  there  was  absolutely  no  sound  or  jar. 

I  saw  what  was  like  a  small  closet,  about  two 
feet  deep  and  perhaps  three  feet  wide.  At  the  back 


288  VICKY  VAN 

of  it,  that  is,  against  the  walls  of  the  adjoining  room 
in  the  other  house,  we  could  see  the  shape  of  a  simi 
lar  door,  and  the  secret  was  out.  There  was  no  need 
to  open  that  other  door  to  know  that  it  led  to  Ruth 
Schuyler's  rooms.  There  was  yet  more  telltale  evi 
dence.  In  the  little  cupboard  between  the  houses  was 
a  small  safe.  This  Stone  had  opened  and  in  it  was 
the  black  wig  of  Vicky  Van  and  also  a  brown  wig 
which  I  recognized  at  once  as  Julie's  well-remem 
bered  plainly  parted  front  hair. 

"  You  see,  Tibbetts  is  Julie,"  said  Fibsy,  in  such 
a  heart-broken  and  despairing  voice  that  I  felt  the 
tears  rush  to  my  own  eyes. 

Vicky's  wig !  The  loops  of  sleek  black  hair,  the 
soft  loose  knot  behind,  the  delicate  part,  all  just  as 
it  crowned  her  little  head — Ruth's  head !  Oh,  I 
couldn't  stand  it !  It  was  too  fearful ! 

"  This  other  door,"  Stone  said,  "  opens  into 
Mrs.  Schuyler's  bathroom.  That  I  know.  You 
see,  she  had  to  have  this  entrance  from  some  room 
absolutely  her  own.  Her  bathroom  was  safe  from 
interruption,  and  when  she  chose  she  slipped 
through  from  one  house  to  the  other  and  back  at 
will." 

"  No,  I  can't  understand  it,"  I  insisted,  shaking 
my  head.  "If  she  came  in  here  as  Ruth  Schuyler 
why  wasn't  she  seen?" 


289 

"  Because,  before  she  was  seen,  she  had  made 
herself  over  into  Victoria  Van  Allen.  She  had 
donned  wig  and  make-up,  safe  from  interruption, 
here  in  her  boudoir.  This  make-up  she  removed  be 
fore  ^returning  to  the  Schuyler  house  in  her  role  of 
Mrs.  Schuyler." 

"  It  is  too  unbelievable!" 

"No;  it  is  diabolically  clever,  but  quite  under 
standable.  Julie  and  Tibbetts  are  the  same.  This 
confidential  woman  looked  after  her  mistress'  safety 
on  both  sides.  She  remained  when  Vicky  Van  dis 
appeared.  She  looked  after  everything,  took  care 
of  details,  attended  to  tradesmen  and  all  such  mat 
ters,  and  when  ready  followed  Mrs.  Schuyler  into 
the  other  house,  or  went  from  here  to  her  rooms 
a  few  blocks  away  and  later  came  from  them.  When 
there  were  to  be  parties,  Julie  left  the  Schuyler  house 
early,  came  here  and  made  preparations,  and  then 
as  late  as  ten  or  eleven  o'clock  maybe,  Mrs.  Schuyler 
came  in  from  her  home,  when  her  own  household 
thought  her  abed  and  asleep.  She  could  go  back  in 
the  early  morning  hours,  with  no  one  the  wiser.  Or, 
if  she  chose  and  she  did  when  her  husband  was 
out  of  town,  she  could  pretend  she  had  gone  away 
for  a  visit  and  stay  here  for  days  at  a  time." 

I  began  to  see.  Truly  the  wall's  tongue  had 
spoken.  If  this  awful  theory  of  Stone's  were  true, 

19 


290  .VICKY  VAN 

it  could  only  be  managed  in  this  way.  I  remembered 
how  long  and  how  often  Vicky  Van  was  absent 
from  her  home.  I  remembered  that  sometimes 
she  was  late  in  arriving  at  her  own  parties,  although 
she  always  came  down  from  upstairs  in  her  party 
regalia. 

"  How  did  you  come  to  suspect  Tibbetts?"  I 
asked,  suddenly. 

"Her  teeth,"  said  Fibsy.  "I  saw  that  Tib 
betts  had  false  teeth,  anyway,  an'  I  says,  why  can't 
Julie's  gold  teeth  be  false,  too?  And  they  are. 
They're  in  the  safe!" 

What  marvelous  precautions  they  had  taken ! 
To  think  of  having  a  set  of  teeth  for  the  maid  Julie 
that  should  appear  so  different  from  those  of  Tib 
betts  !  Surely  this  thing  was  the  result  of  long  and 
careful  planning. 

"  Her  glasses,  too,"  went  on  Fibsy.  "  You  see, 
they  made  her  different  from  Tibbetts  in  appear 
ance.  That  was  all  the  disguise  Tibbs  had,  the  gold 
teeth,  the  big  rimmed  specs  and  the  brown  scratch — 
wig,  you  know.  But  it  was  enough.  .  Nobody  no 
tices  a  servant  closely,  and  these  things  altered  her 
looks  sufficient.  Miss  Van  Allen,  now,  she  had  a 
wig  an'  a  lot  of  colorin'  matter  an'  her  giddy  clothes. 
Nothin'  left  to  reckernize  but  her  eyes,  an'  they  were 
so  darkened  by  the  long  dark  lashes  and  brows  that 


THE  TRUTH  FROM  RUTH      291 

she  fixed  up  that  it  made  her  eyes  seem  darker.  I 
got  all  this  from  the  pitchers  the  artist  lady  made. 
You  see,  she  caught  the  color  likeness  but  not  the 
actual  features.  So  I  sized  up  the  resemblance  of 
the  real  women.  Oh,  Mr.  Stone,  what  are  we  going 
to  do?" 

"  Our  duty,  Terence." 

Then  I  put  forth  my  plea,  that  I  might  be  al 
lowed  to  go  and  see  Ruth  -first ;  that  I  might  pre 
pare  her  for  the  disclosures  they  would  make,  the 
discoveries  they  would  announce. 

But  Stone  denied  me.  He  said  they  would  do 
or  say  nothing  that  would  unnecessarily  hurt  her 
feelings,  but  they  must  accompany  me.  Indeed,  he 
implied,  that  it  might  be  as  well  for  me  not  to  go. 

But  I  insisted  on  going,  and  we  three  went  on 
our  terrible  errand. 

Ruth  received  us  in  the  library.  She  saw  at 
once  that  her  secret  was  known,  and  she  took  it 
calmly. 

"  You  know,"  she  said,  quietly,  to  Stone.  "  I 
am  sorry.  I  hoped  to  hide  my  secret  and  let  Vic 
toria  Van  Allen  forever  remain  a  mystery.  But  it 
cannot  be.  I  admit  all ". 

"Wait,  Ruth,"  I  cried  out.  "Admit  nothing 
until  you  are  accused." 

"  I  am  accused,"  she  responded,  with  a  sad  smile. 


292  VICKY  VAN 

"  I  heard  you  talking  in  the  passage  between  the 
rooms.  In  my  bathroom  I  could  hear  you  distinctly. 
There  is  there  a  mirror  door  also.  It  looks  like  an 
ordinary  mirror  and  has  a  wide,  flat  nickel  frame, 
matching  the  other  fittings.  Yes,  I  had  the  sliding 
doors  built  for  the  purposes  which  you  have  sur 
mised.  Shall  I  tell  you  my  story?" 

"  Yes,  and  let  us  hear  it,  too,"  came  from  the 
doorway,  and  the  two  sisters  appeared,  agog  with 
excitement  and  curiosity. 

"  Come  in,"  said  Ruth,  quietly.  "  Sit  down, 
please,  I  want  you  to  hear  it.  Most  of  it  you  know, 
Sarah  and  Rhoda,  but  I  will  tell  it  briefly  to  Mr. 
Stone,  for  I  want  not  leniency,  out  justice." 

I  seated  myself  at  Ruth's  side,  and  though  I  said 
no  word  I  knew  that  she  understood  that  my  heart 
and  life  were  at  her  disposal  and  that  whatever  she 
might  be  about  to  tell  would  not  shake  my  love  and 
devotion.  It  is  not  necessary  to  use  words  when  a 
life  crisis  occurs. 

"  I  was  an  orphan,"  Ruth  said,  "  brought  up 
by  a  stern  and  Puritanical  old  aunt  in  New  Eng 
land.  I  had  no  joy  or  pleasures  in  my  childhood  or 
girlhood  days.  I  ran  away  from  home  to  become 
an  actress.  Tibbetts,  my  old  nurse,  who  lived  in 
the  same  village,  followed  me  to  keep  an  eye  on 
me  and  protect  me  in  need.  I  was  a  chorus  girl  for 


THE  TRUTH  FROM  RUTH      293 

just  one  week  when  Randolph  Schuyler  discovered 
me  and  offered  to  marry  me  if  I  would  renounce 
the  stage  and  also  gay  life  of  any  sort  and  be 
come  a  dignified  old-fashioned  matron.  I  willingly 
accepted.  I  wras  only  seventeen  and  knew  nothing 
of  the  world  or  its  ways.  As  soon  as  we  were  mar 
ried  he  forbade  me  any  sort  of  amusement  or 
pleasure  other  than  those  practised  by  his  elderly 
sisters.  I  submitted  and  lived  a  life  of  slavery  to 
his  whims  and  his  cruelty  for  five  years.  He  had 
agreed  to  let  me  have  Tibbetts  for  my  maid,  as  he 
deemed  her  a  staid  old  woman  who  would  not  en 
courage  me  in  wayward  desires.  Nor  did  she.  But 
she  realized  my  thraldom,  my  lonely,  unhappy  life, 
and  knew  that  I  was  pining  away  for  want  of  the 
simple  innocent  pleasures  that  my  youth  and  light- 
hearted  nature  craved.  I  used  to  beg  and  plead  for 
permission  to  have  a  few  young  friends  or  to  be  al 
lowed  to  go  to  a  few  parties  or  plays.  But  Mr. 
Schuyler  kept  me  as  secluded  as  any  woman  in  a 
harem.  He  gave  me  no  liberty,  no  freedom  in  the 
slightest  degree. 

"'  I  had  been  married  about  four  years  when  I 
rebelled  and  began  to  think  up  a  scheme  of  a  dual 
existence.  I  had  ample  time  in  the  long  lonely  hours 
to  perfect  my  plans,  and  I  had  them  arranged  to  the 
minutest  detail  long  before  I  put  them  in  operation. 


294  VICKY  VAN 

Why,  I  practised  writing  with  my  left  hand  and 
acquired  a  different  speaking  voice  for  a  year  be 
fore  I  needed  such  subterfuges.  Had  I  been  able 
to  persuade  my  husband  to  give  me  even  a  little 
pleasure  or  happiness  I  would  willingly  have  given 
up  my  wild  scheme.  But  he  wouldn't ;  so  once  when 
he  was  away  on  a  long  trip,  I  had  the  passage  be 
tween  the  two  houses  made. 

"  I  had  previously  bought  the  other  house,  under 
the  name  of  Van  Allen,  for  I  had  money  of  my  own, 
left  me  by  an  uncle  that  Mr.  Schuyler  knew  noth 
ing  about.  Of  course,  this  money  came  to  me  after 
I  was  married  or  I  never  should  have  wed  Randolph 
Schuyler. 

"  Tibbetts'  cousin,  an  expert  carpenter,  did  the 
work,  and,  as  he  afterward  wrent  to  England  to 
live,  I  had  no  fear  of  discovery  that  way.  Indeed, 
there  was  little  fear  of  discovery  in  any  way.  I 
was  expected  to  spend  much  of  my  time  in  my  own 
rooms — and  my  bedroom,  dressing  room  and  bath 
form  a  little  suite  by  themselves  and  can  be  locked  off 
from  the  rest  of  the  house.  So,  when  I  retired  to 
my  rooms  for  the  night  I  could  go  through  into  the 
other  house  and  become  Vicky  Van  at  my  pleasure." 

"  I  can't  believe  such  baseness !"  declared  Rhoda 
Schuyler,  "  such  ingratitude  to  a  husband  who  was 
so  good  to  you — " 


THE  TRUTH  FROM  RUTH  295 

"  He  wasn't  good  to  me,"  said  Ruth,  quietly, 
"  nor  was  I  ungrateful.  Randolph  Schuyler  spoiled 
my  life;  he  denied  me  everything- 1  asked  for,  every 
innocent  pleasure  and  amusement.  So,  I  found  them 
for  myself.  I  did  nothing  wrong.  As  Victoria  Van 
Allen  I  had  friends  and  pleasures  that  suited  my 
age  and  my  love  of  life,  but  there  never  was  any 
thing  wrong  or  guilty  in  my  house " 

"  Until  you  killed  your  husband !"  interrupted 
Sarah. 

"  Until  the  night  of  Randolph  Schuyler's  ap 
pearance  at  Vicky  Van's  house,"  Ruth  went  on.  "  I 
had  been  told  of  a  Mr.  Somers  who  wanted  to  know 
me,  but  I  had  no  idea  it  was  my  husband  masquer 
ading  under  a  false  name.  He  came  there  with 
Mr.  Steele.  Of  course,  I  recognized  him,  but  he 
did  not  know  me  at  once.  I  sat,  playing  bridge,  and 
wondering  how  I  could  best  make  my  escape.  I  saw 
that  he  didn't  know  me  and  then,  suddenly  as  I  sat, 
holding  my  cards,  and  he  stood  beside  me,  he  no 
ticed  a  tiny  scar  on  my  shoulder.  He  made  that  scar 
himself,  one  night,  when  he  hit  me  with  a  hot  curling 
iron." 

"  What !"  I  cried,  unable  to  repress  an  exclama 
tion  of  horror. 

"  Yes,  I  was  curling  my  hair  with  the  tongs  and 
he  became  angry  at  me  for  some  trival  reason,  as  he 


296  VICKY  VAN 

often  did,  and  he  snatched  up  the  iron  and  hit  my 
shoulder.  It  made  a  deep  burn  and  he  was  very 
sorry. 

"  Whenever  he  saw  it  afterward  he  said,  '  Never 
again!'  meaning  he  would  never  strike  me  again. 
Then,  when  he  noticed  the  scar  that  night,  although 
I  had  put  on  a  light  scarf  to  cover  it,  he  said  '  Never 
again !'  in  that  peculiar  intonation,  and  I  knew  then 
that  he  knew  Victoria  Van  Allen  was  his  own  wife. 

"  I  ran  out  to  the  dining-room  and  he  followed 
me." 

"  And  you  stabbed  him !"  cried  Rhoda;  "  stabbed 
your  husband !  Murderess !" 

"I  don't  deny  it,"  said  Ruth,  slowly.  "The 
jury  must  decide  that.  I  must  be  tried,  I  sup 
pose " 

"  Don't,  Ruth !"  I  cried,  in  agony.  "  Don't  talk 
like  that !  You  shall  not  be  tried !  You  didn't  kill 
Schuyler!  If  you  did  it  was  in  self-defence.  Wasn't 
it  ?  Didn't  he  try  to  kill  you  ?" 

"  Yes,  he  did.  He  snatched  the  little  carver  from 
the  sideboard  and  attacked  me, — and  I — and  I " 

"  Don't  say  it,  Ruth — keep  still!"  I  ordered,  be 
side  myself  with  my  whirling  thoughts.  The  little 
carving-knife! 

"  And  you  defended  yourself  with  the  caterer's 
knife "  began  Stone,  but  Fibsy  wailed,  "  No! 


THE  TRUTH  FROM  RUTH  297 

No!  It  wasn't  Mrs.  Schuyler!  I've  got  the  prints 
from  the  caterer's  knife  and  they  ain't  Mrs.  Schuy- 
ler's  at  all !  She  didn't  kill  him !" 

"  No,  she  didn't!"  and  Tibbetts  appeared  in  the 
library  doorway.     "  I  did  it  myself." 

"  That's  right !"  and  Fibsy's  eyes  gleamed  satis 
faction  ;  "  she  did !  It's  her  fingermarks  on  the  knife 
that  stabbed  old  Schuyler.  They're  plain  as  print! 
Nobody  thought  of  matching  up  those  marks  with 
Tibbetts's  mitt!  But  I'll  bet  she  did  it  to  save  Mrs. 
Schuyler's  life!" 

"  I  did,"  and  Tibbetts  came  into  the  room  and 
stood  facing  us. 

"  Tell  your  story,"  said  Stone,  abruptly,  as  he 
looked  at  the  white-faced  woman. 

"  Here  it  is,"  and  Tibbetts  looked  fondly  at  Ruth 
as  the  latter's  piteous  glance  met  hers.  "  I've  loved 
and  watched  over  Mrs.  Schuyler  all  her  life.  I've 
protected  her  from  her  husband's  brutality  and 
helped  her  to  bear  his  cruelty  and  unkindness  .  When 
she  conceived  the  plan  of  the  double  life  I  helped  her 
all  I  could,  and  I  got  my  cousin  to  do  the  work  on 
the  houses  that  made  it  all  possible.  Then,  I  was 
Julie,  and  I  devoted  my  life  and  energies  to  keeping 
the  secret  and  allowing  my  mistress  to  have  some 
pleasure  out  of  her  life.  And  she  did."  Tibbets 
looked  affectionately,  even  proudly,  at  Ruth.  "  The 


298  VICKY  VAN 

hours  she  spent  in  that  house  as  Victoria  Van  Allen 
were  full  of  simple  joys  and  happy  occupation.  She 
had  the  books  and  pictures  and  furniture  that  she 
craved.  She  had  things  to  eat  and  things  to  wear 
that  she  wanted.  She  went  to  parties  and  she  had 
parties ;  she  went  to  the  theater  and  to  the  shops,  and 
wherever  she  chose,  without  let  or  hindrance.  It 
did  my  heart  good  to  see  her  enjoy  herself  in  those 
innocent  ways. 

"  Then  Mr.  Schuyler  came.  I  knew  the  man.  I 
knew  that  he  came  because  he  had  heard  of  the 
charm  and  beauty  of  Vicky  Van.  He  had  no  idea 
he  would  find  her  his  own  wife!  When  he  did  dis 
cover  it  I  knew  he  would  kill  her.  Oh,  I  knew  Ran 
dolph  Schuyler!  I  knew  nothing  short  of  murder 
would  satisfy  the  rage  that  possessed  him  at  the  dis 
covery.  I  prepared  for  it.  I  got  the  little  boning- 
knife  from  the  pantry,  and  as  Mr.  Schuyler  lifted 
the  carver  and  aimed  it  at  Ruth's  breast  I  drove  the 
little  knife  into  his  vile,  wicked,  murderer's  heart. 
And  I'm  glad  I  did  it !  I  glory  in  it !  I  saved  Ruth's 
life  and  I  rid  the  world  of  a  scoundrel  and  a  villain 
who  had  no  right  to  live  and  breathe  on  God's  earth ! 
Now,  you  may  take  me  and  do  with  me  as  you  will. 
I  give  myself  up." 

It  was  the  truth.  On  the  carving-knife  appeared, 
plain  as  print,  the  finger  marks  of  Randolph  Schuy- 


THE  TRUTH  FROM  RUTH      299 

ler,  proved  a  hundred  times  by  prints  photographed 
from  his  own  letters,  toilet  articles,  and  personal  be 
longings  in  his  own  rooms.  In  his  mad  fury  at  the 
discovery  of  Ruth  masquerading  as  Vicky  Van,  and 
in  his  sudden  realization  of  all  that  it  meant,  he 
clutched  the  first  weapon  he  saw,  the  little  carver, 
to  end  her  life  and  gratify  his  madness  for  revenge. 
Just  in  time,  the  watching  Tibbets  had  intervened, 
stabbed  Schuyler,  and  then  ran  upstairs,  to  escape 
through  the  hidden  doors  to  the  other  house. 

Ruth,  stunned  at  the  sight  of  the  blow  driven  by 
Tibbetts,  and  dazed  by  her  own  narrow  escape  from 
a  fearful  death,  picked  up  the  carver  that  dropped 
from  Schuyler's  lifeless  hand  and  ran  upstairs,  too. 

She  had,  she  explained  afterward,  a  hazy  idea 
that  she  was  picking  up  the  knife  that  Tibbetts  had 
used,  so  bewildered  was  she  at  the  swift  turn  of 
events.  And  as  she  stooped  over  Schuyler  in  her 
frenzy  the  waiter  had  seen  her  and  assumed  she 
was  the  murderer.  This,  too,  explained  the  blood 
on  the  flounces  of  her  gown — it  had  brushed  the 
fallen  figure  of  her  husband  and  became  stained 
at  the  touch. 

The  two  women  had,  of  course,  slipped  through 
the  connecting  mirror  doors  into  the  Schuyler  house, 
and  long  before  the  alarm  was  brought  there  they 
were  rehabilitated  and  ready  to  receive  the  news. 


300  VICKY  VAN 

Then  Ruth's  quandary  was  a  serious  one.  Inno 
cent  herself,  she  could  not  tell  of  her  double  life 
without  making  the  whole  affair  public  and  in 
criminating  Tibbetts,  whom  she  loved  almost  as  a 
mother  and  who  had  saved  Ruth's  life  by  a  fraction 
of  a  second.  An  instant's  delay  and  Schuyler's  knife 
would  have  been  driven  into  Ruth's  heart. 

So,  for  Tibbetts'  sake,  Ruth,  perforce,  kept  the 
secret  of  Vicky  Van. 

"  I  was  not  ashamed  of  it,"  she  told  us,  frankly, 
"  There  was  nothing  really  wrong  in  my  living  two 
lives.  My  husband  denied  me  the  pleasure  and  joy 
that  life  owed  me,  so  I  found  it  for  myself.  I  never 
had  a  friend  or  committed  a  deed  or  said  a  word  as 
Victoria  Van  Allen  that  all  the  world  mightn't  hear 
or  know  of.  And  I  should  have  owned  up  to  the 
whole  scheme  at  once  except  that  it  would  bring  out 
the  knowledge  of  Tibbetts'  act. 

"  I  wished  not  to  go  back  to  the  other  house  at 
all  and  should  not  have  done  so  for  myself.  But  I 
had  reasons — connected  with  other  people.  A  friend, 
whom  I  love,  had  asked  the  privilege  of  having  cer 
tain  letters  sent  her  in  my  care,  that  is,  in  care  of 
Miss  Van  Allen,  and  I  had  to  go  in  once  or  twice 
to  rescue  those  and  so  prevent  a  scandal  that  would 
ensue  upon  their  discovery.  For  her  sake  I  risked 
going  back  there  at  night.  Also,  I  wanted  my  ad- 


THE  TRUTH  FROM  RUTH  301 

dress  book,  for  it  has  in  it  many  addresses  of  people 
who  are  my  charity  beneficiaries.  Mr.  Schuyler 
never  allowed  me  to  contribute  to  any  charitable 
cause,  and  I  have  enjoyed  giving  help  to  some  who 
need  and  deserve  it.  These  addresses  I  had  to  have, 
and  I  have  them. 

"  Mr.  Stone  was  right.  The  walls  had  tongues. 
He  first  noticed  a  little  defect  in  the  green  paint  in 
the  living  room,  which  I  had  retouched.  Winnie 
told  me  of  this,  and  I  realized  how  clever  Mr.  Stone 
is.  So,  I  threw  away  the  paint  I  had  used,  which 
was  in  here,  and  I  carefully  thought  out  what  else 
was  incriminating  and  removed  all  I  could  from  the 
other  house.  Fibsy  noticed  when  I  took  a  book 
from  a  table,  but  that  book  I  wanted,  because — " 
she  blushed — "  because  Mr.  Calhoun  had  given  it  to 
me  and  I  wasn't  sure  I  could  get  it  any  other  way. 

"  But  the  walls  told  all,  and  at  the  last  I  knew  it 
was  only  a  question  of  time  when  Mr.  Stone  or  Ter 
ence  would  discover  the  doors.  I  suppose  the  strand 
of  beads  that  caught  as  I  escaped  that  night  gave 
a  hint,  but  they  would  have  found  them  anyway. 
They  are  wonderful  doors — in  their  working,  I 
mean.  No  complicated  mechanism,  but  merely  so 
well  made  and  adjusted  that  a  touch  opens  or  closes 
them,  and  absolutely  silently.  No  one  in  this  house 
ever  dreamed  the  bathroom  mirror  was  anything 


302  VICKY  VAN 

but  a  mirror.  And  in  the  other  house  the  elaborate 
Florentine  frame  precluded  all  idea  of  a  secret  con 
trivance.  The  two  feet  of  thickness  of  the  house 
walls  made  a  tiny  cupboard,  where  I  had  that  small 
safe  installed,  that  we  might  put  our  wigs  and  such 
definitely  incriminating  bits  of  evidence  in  hiding, 
also  Vicky's  jewelry.  But  I  always  changed  my 
costumes  from  one  character  to  the  other  in  Vicky 
Van's  dressing-room,  and  so  ran  little  or  no  chance 
of  discovery. 

"  In  a  futile  endeavor  to  distract  attention  from 
Victoria  Van  Allen  I  wrote  a  note  to  Ruth  Schuyler 
and  also  wrote  the  one  found  in  Mr.  Schuyler's  desk. 
I  did  these  things  in  hopes  that  the  detectives  would 
cease  to  watch  for  the  return  of  Miss  Van  Allen, 
but  it  turned  out  differently.  I  assumed,  of  course, 
if  search  could  be  diverted  from  that  house  into 
other  channels  there  would  be  a  possibility  of  Tib- 
betts  never  being  suspected.  I  am  sorry  she  has 
confessed.  I  do  not  want  her  to  be  tried.  She 
saved  my  life,  and  I  would  do  anything  to  keep  her 
from,  harm." 

But  Tibbetts  was  tried  and  was  acquitted.  A 
just  jury,  knowing  all  of  the  facts,  declared  it  was 
a  case  of  justifiable  homicide,  and  the  verdict  was 
"Not  guilty!" 

The  Schuyler  sisters  were  finally  convinced  that 


THE  TRUTH  FROM  RUTH      303 

Ruth's  life  had  been  endangered  by  their  brother's 
rage,  and,  though  they  condemned  Tibbetts  in  their 
hearts,  they  said  little  in  the  face  of  public  opinion. 

As  for  me,  I  couldn't  wait  until  a  conventional 
time  had  elapsed  before  telling  my  darling  of  my 
love  for  her  own  sweet  self  and,  as  I  now  realized, 
for  Vicky  Van  also.  I  spent  hours  listening  to  the 
details  of  her  double  life;  of  the  narrow  escapes 
from  discovery,  and  the  frequent  occasions  of  dan 
ger  to  her  scheme.  But  Tibbetts'  watchful  eyes  and 
Ruth's  own  cleverness  had  made  the  plan  feasible 
for  two  years,  and  it  was  only  because  Ruth  had 
found  her  dear  heart  was  inclining  too  greatly  to 
ward  me  that  she  had  begun  to  think  it  her  duty 
to  give  up  her  double  life.  She  had  recently  decided 
to  do  so,  for  she  was  not  willing  to  let  our  mutual 
interest  ripen  into  love  while  she  was  the  wife  of 
another  man. 

And  so,  if  it  hadn't  all  happened  just  as  it  did,  I 
should  never  have  won  my  darling,  for  she  was 
about  to  give  up  the  Van  Allen  house  and  I  never 
should  have  had  occasion  to  meet  Mrs.  Randolph 
Schuyler. 

It  is  all  past  history  now,  and  Ruth  and  I  are 
striving  to  forget  even  the  memories  of  it.  We  live 
in  another  city,  and  Tibbetts  is  our  faithful  and  be 
loved  housekeeper. 


304  VICKY  VAN 

And  often  Ruth  says  to  me:  "I  know  you  love 
me,  Chet,  but  sometimes  I  can't  help  feeling  a  little 
jealous  of  the  girl  you  cared  for — that,  what's  her 
name  ?  Oh,  yes,  Vicky  Van !" 

"  Vicky  Van  was  all  right,"  I  stoutly  maintain. 
"  I  never  knew  a  more  charming,  sweeter,  prettier, 
dearer  little  girl  than  Vicky!" 

"  But  she  was  awfully  made  up!" 

"  Yes,  that's  where  you  score  an  advantage.  The 
only  thing  about  Vicky  I  disapproved  of  was  her 
paint  and  powder.  Thank  heaven,  my  wife  has  a 
complexion  that's  all  her  own."  And  I  kissed  the 
soft,  pale  cheek  of  my  own  Ruth. 


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